


She Might Just Be Mine

by prettyonthethrone



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: AU, F/F, Fluff, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-10-13 10:10:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17486198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyonthethrone/pseuds/prettyonthethrone
Summary: Cordelia is a single mother of a five-year-old starting Kindergarten. She hasn't dated in a while, but her daughter's teacher is about to throw her for a loop.Title from Beyond by Leon Bridges.





	1. What's Inside Her Never Dies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the AU that no one asked for. Bear with me as I lay out the non-magical world that they’re living in.
> 
> A lot of music inspired this fic, so each chapter will have a title from one of the songs that did. 
> 
> Chapter title from He Can Only Hold Her by Amy Winehouse.

“Congratulations, Cordelia!”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Congrats, Cordelia. Great work.”

 

“Thank you, Jane.”

 

Cordelia finally rounds the corner to enter the hallway containing her office when she’s stopped by yet another colleague.

 

“I go into a meeting for one hour and _this_ is what I miss?”

 

Marie Laveau opens her long, blazer-covered arms to envelope Cordelia into. “I _knew_ we could get this,” Marie says, finally releasing the other woman. “Tell me everything.”

 

“They called and said they’d considered every option and they decided they trusted us the most. They want us on the case.”

 

“They want _you_ on the case. This is all you, Cordelia.”

 

“It was both of our research,” Cordelia says.

 

“Bullshit it was,” Marie scoffs. “With this Goldman Sachs nonsense up my ass all day, I knew what we presented was mostly yours.”

 

Cordelia smiles, hesitantly at first, but growing under the gaze of the woman she’d looked up to every day of her career. “It’s mine,” she says. “I’m doing it.”

 

“Damn right, you are. Congrats, Cordelia. It’s a day to remember at Laveau & Goode.”

 

As Marie turns to walk back towards her office, Cordelia hears the sound of her assistant picking up yet another call.

 

“I’ll get that one, Mal,” she says, hurrying into her office to answer the phone. She smiles when she sees it’s from Sasha, one of her favorite attorneys who she had personally hired.

 

“Congratulations!” Sasha cries, before Cordelia can get a word in.

 

“Thank you so much.”

 

“I am not surprised in the least – I know that you know that – but I still wanted to call and say that you are a complete badass and I am so proud to be at your firm.”

 

“Thank you, Sasha. It means the world.”

 

“Has your phone been ringing off the hook?”

 

“Just about,” Cordelia laughs.

 

“You deserve every single one,” Sasha says. “I won’t take up any more of your time, but know that I can’t wait to see you kick ass on this case.”

 

“Thank you,” Cordelia repeats, and she wonders how many times she’s iterated the phrase in the last hour.

 

Word tended to travel fast at Laveau & Goode. Marie liked to joke that it was because they had a company of mostly women, something the two founders had agreed upon when they started their own firm several years ago.

 

Marie had been a family friend for a long time, and while she and Fiona had never seen eye to eye on much of anything past a martini menu, Marie had taken a liking to Cordelia – and vice versa. When the older woman went into Law after finishing her schooling, Cordelia had been inspired to follow in her footsteps. Marie was a mentor, a friend, and, at times, a mother figure when Cordelia desperately needed one.

 

Throughout both of their separate times at Tulane Law, they each noticed the shortage of women receiving positions at top firms – and not for a lack of talent. When Marie had first approached Cordelia about starting their own woman-led firm, Cordelia had immediately turned her down.

 

_“You don’t need me. I’m eight years out of school, Marie.”_

 

_“I don’t give a damn. You’re a good lawyer.”_

 

_“I have a two-year-old, and no husband to help with her.”_

 

_“You’re already paying for daycare; why not be able to put her in an even better one? I don’t just need you, Cordelia. I want you. Don’t give me any more excuses.”_

 

Marie had been right, and the women were able to successful create what has become an extremely profitable firm – and with 70 percent female attorneys.

 

So, when the prospective client, one of the largest energy companies in the Gulf area, called with the news that they would be moving forward with Laveau & Goode, Cordelia was hardly able to keep the news a secret for long. Cordelia had a feeling it started as a murmur among the assistants; she knew that they talked to one another – particularly Mallory and Queenie, who assisted the founders themselves.

 

Cordelia had been working day and night to earn the case, something she knew she herself would be taking on due to Marie’s current occupancy with a high-stakes financial fraud lawsuit. She can hardly blame Mallory for talking; she knows the young woman is proud of her boss.

 

Cordelia has only been off the phone with Sasha when Mallory herself appears in the doorway, this time holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

 

“These just came for you,” she says, setting them down on Cordelia’s desk. “Want me to keep passing you the calls?”

 

“You can take messages for now,” Cordelia tells her. “I’ve got to leave in a minute, anyway. Thanks, Mallory.”

 

As her assistant leaves the office, Cordelia reaches for the small card amount the flowers. Perplexed, she opens the tiny envelope and smiles when she sees the printed note. She grabs her cell phone and calls the woman that’s been on her Favorites list since their freshman year of college.

 

“How on earth did you do this so fast? I texted you an hour ago.”

 

Coco’s laugh rings through the receiver. “I know people. Congrats, babe. I am eternally in awe of you. Let’s get drinks tonight to celebrate.”

 

“Why don’t you come over to my place for dinner? Zoe is starting classes this week and I don’t want to call her to sit.”

 

“Deal. I’ll see you around six?”

 

“Perfect. And, thank you, Co.”

 

“Of course. Love you.”

 

After ending what she swears will be her last phone call for a while, Cordelia packs up her things and heads out of her office.

 

“Mal, I’ll see you late next week,” she says to her assistant, who nods.

 

“I know you’re out Monday through Wednesday,” Mallory confirms. “Tell Violet I say good luck. She’s going to be great!”

 

“I think I’m the one who needs the luck,” Cordelia tells her wryly. “We’ll be lucky if I don’t have a nervous breakdown before I’m back here.”

 

“It’s Kindergarten; it’s harmless!” Mallory smiles.

 

“We’ll see,” Cordelia says. “I’ll see you next week. Enjoy your weekend.”

 

Cordelia makes it to the summer day camp she’d enrolled her daughter in just before four o’clock, walking in with a few other parents to check in.

 

“Violet Foxx,” the front desk assistant pages on her walkie-talkie. Within a minute, a staff member is walking with Violet over to the entrance.

 

“Mommy!”

 

Violet jumps into Cordelia’s waiting arms, and Cordelia hugs her tightly.

 

“Hi, my love.” She settles the five-year-old on her hip. “How was your day? Did you have fun?”

 

While Violet launches into a complete oral history of her day since Cordelia had dropped her off this morning, Cordelia gathers Violet’s belongings into her tote bag and signs her out, thanking the staff members before leaving.

 

“It sounds like a blast,” Cordelia says as she helps Violet get buckled into her booster seat in the car. “I’m so glad you had a good time. And, guess what?”

 

“What?” The blue eyes that Violet had inherited from her father sparkle with excitement, and Cordelia kisses her daughter’s forehead.

 

“Auntie Coco is coming over for dinner.”

 

Violet cheers and Cordelia laughs, listening to Violet detail each thing she loves about her godmother until she puts herself to sleep.

 

Coco had been a regular fixture in Violet’s life since the little girl had been born. She and Cordelia had met in college and, despite their extremely different personalities, found a balance in each other that seemed to work like magic. She also takes it upon herself to spoil Violet at every turn, something Cordelia just can’t bring herself to put an end to.

 

Dinner is a lively affair, with Coco peppering Violet with questions about her upcoming status as a Kindergartener and both adults listening to the five-year-old talk about everything from her favorite books to the latest updates on her family of baby dolls.

 

While Cordelia gives Violet her nightly bath and tucks her into bed, Coco breaks out the expensive bottle of red wine she’d brought over and pours two glasses. She’s waiting on the couch with both of them when Cordelia finally re-appears in the living room.

 

“A toast,” Coco says, once Cordelia has lifted her glass, “to my best friend and the most badass boss lady I know. I’m so proud of you, Cords.”

 

Cordelia smiles and clinks her glass against Coco’s. “Thank you.”

 

“So – tell me about the case!”

 

“Do I have to?” Cordelia asks, and Coco opens her mouth in mock protest. “There aren’t really any more details than you already know, and it’s all I’ve been talking about for weeks now. Tell me about you; how was the date with that guy on Wednesday? What was his name? Ryan?”

 

“Drew. Ryan was the banker.”

 

“Right, sorry.” Cordelia tucks her feet under her thighs to get comfortable. “This guy works at a tech start-up?” She hesitates with the last few words, but Coco grins.

 

“Look at you, remembering every detail. Yes, and the date went _fabulously_. I couldn’t believe it; it felt like no time at all had passed, and then I looked at my watch and it had been five hours.”

 

“Wow,” Cordelia says, sipping on her wine glass.

 

“I know.”

 

“So, you slept with him.”

 

“Um, no.”

 

“Liar.” Cordelia smiles. “I can see it all over your stupid lying face.”

 

Coco sighs and drops her head back towards the throw pillows. “Fine, I did. I know I said I wouldn’t, but, _five hours_!”

 

“It’s a long time to talk someone into taking her pants off.”

 

“Cords, I really like him.”

 

“I know, I’m just teasing you. Hey, good for you. At least one of us is getting laid.”

 

Cordelia watches through the bowl of Coco’s wine glass as her eyes widen, and Cordelia immediately begins shaking her head. “No, don’t even think about it.”

 

“Come on. Please.”

 

“No. The last guy you set me up with was a total waste of my time.”

 

“Okay, for the record: how was I supposed to know that the tall, _hot_ doctor who I sold a gorgeous $3.6 million home to was going to be an asshole? He sounded like winning a lottery ticket.”

 

“Men like that always have huge egos. _‘It must be nice to date someone who can provide for you to stay at home with your child’_?” Cordelia mocks the line she’d reiterated back to Coco at least ten times since that date. She gags and Coco rolls her eyes.

 

“Okay, so that one didn’t work out. But, we’ve talked about this; you don’t _have_ to bring up the fact that you’re a mom on the first date.”

 

“Yes, I do.”

 

“What if you’re just trying to bone?”

 

“I can’t do casual sex. It’s not for me.” Cordelia takes another sip of her wine. “It doesn’t matter, anyways. Between Violet starting school next week and this new case, not to mention this custody mess with Hank, I’m not going to have any time to date.”

 

“That’s not really a good thing, babe. You need something – some _one_ – to yourself.”

 

“What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi, my name is Cordelia. I have an extremely high-stress job, a five-year-old, a psycho scumbag of an ex-husband, and a slew of intimacy issues. Oh, and don’t forget about my sociopathic mother who appears every now and then to tell me I’m not doing enough. Get in line, boys!’”

 

“Cords—” Coco frowns, but Cordelia puts her hand up.

 

“No pity party, please,” she says. “Tonight was supposed to be a celebration, remember?”

 

“You’re right,” Coco resigns, and knocks her glass against Cordelia’s again. “You’re definitely right. Let’s talk about my other favorite subject, the only person in the world I like more than you.” Cordelia laughs. “Are you ready for her to start on Monday?”

 

“Technically, she starts on Tuesday. But we go to meet her teacher on Monday. And, no, I am not ready.”

 

“Why am I not surprised?”

 

. . .

 

“Sit at the table, please, Vi.”

 

Cordelia watches as her five-year-old reluctantly leaves her play area to skip over to the kitchen table. She gets her beloved plush bunny, a gift from Coco that Violet had named Bunny at the age of two, settled in a chair.

 

“Can Bunny come to my school today?” Violet asks as she climbs up into her chair of her own.

 

“I think maybe we leave her at home and just you and I can go,” Cordelia says, smiling. “What do you say?”

 

Violet looks down, her gaze shifting between her stuffed animal and the plate of chopped strawberries Cordelia had set on the table.

 

“I want her to come,” she says, quietly enough that Cordelia almost doesn’t hear her.

 

Cordelia feels the familiar ache in her heart and, grabbing both bowls of oatmeal she’d made, takes them over to sit by Violet. She reaches her arm over and begins rubbing circles on her daughter’s back. “Are you nervous about today?”

 

 _Please say no_. _If you’re scared, too, I’ll just pull the plug on this whole school idea altogether._

 

“A little bit,” Violet admits, her shoes clinking together and apart over and over again.

 

Cordelia spends a few seconds internally debating just how important Kindergarten is before Violet speaks again.

 

“I want to go,” the five-year-old says. She looks up at Cordelia. “But what if I don’t have any friends? And what if my teacher is mean?”

 

“You are going to make so many friends, baby girl,” Cordelia says, sounding surer than she feels. While she has no doubts about Violet’s incredible personality or ability to make friends anywhere she goes, she would hate to promise her child something that she, ultimately, has no control over — but she does it anyway.

 

“Everyone is going to love you; how could they not?” She continues. “And as for your teacher — well, I haven’t met her yet, but I’m sure she’s great. Remember the email she sent that we read together? She said she was so excited for her new class and couldn’t wait to meet all of you. Doesn’t sound very mean, does it?”

 

Violet shakes her head.

 

“Let’s go meet her today and see your classroom, and then we’ll decide what we think. If Bunny wants to come along, she can, too. How about that?”

 

“Okay,” Violet agrees, finally offering a smile.

 

Cordelia leans over to kiss Violet’s head. “Eat your breakfast, okay?” She pushes the bowl, which has oatmeal with a smiley face made of banana slices inside it, in front of Violet and kisses her one more time before starting on her own bowl.

 

Cordelia knows as soon as they pull up to the mostly-empty parking lot of St. Martin’s Episcopal School that they’re among the first ones there for Orientation Day. She’s glad for it, having wanted Violet to not feel overwhelmed too quickly.

 

Once Violet has gotten herself unbuckled from her booster seat, Cordelia helps her out of the car and the two begin walking towards the campus that neither of them has been to since their initial tour of the school.

 

As they pass through buildings to get to the Lower School area, Cordelia notices again just how pristine everything is. The classrooms are organized and modern, if a bit sterile. Her hand is firm in Violet’s as they finally reach the kindergarten rooms.

 

They find her classroom easily, as the door is completely covered from top to bottom in multicolored cartoon frogs. Each one has the name of a different student on it, and Violet points to hers excitedly upon spotting it.

 

The door is already wide open, ready for whoever should walk through it over the next few hours, but it’s still empty save for one person.

 

The tall, slender woman is facing away from them as she finishes hanging the other side of a banner. It reads “Welcome Class” in big, colorful block letters, and they watch as the woman takes a step back to survey it. She nods, presumably considering her job well done, and turns around to see Cordelia and Violet standing hesitantly in her doorway.

 

She immediately grins and looks between her new student and parent.

 

“Hi! Come on in,” she says, a slight Southern twang coloring her voice. “I’m Miss Day.”


	2. The Carousel of Time

Cordelia offers her hand out first, smiling politely. “Hi, I’m Cordelia Goode.”

 

“Misty Day,” the other woman says, her hand soft save for the cool metal of multiple rings that Cordelia can feel against her skin.

 

Cordelia looks down at her daughter, silently encouraging her to introduce herself.

 

“My name is Violet,” she says to her teacher.

 

“It’s so nice to meet the both of you,” Misty says. “You’re a couple of early birds, huh? You almost beat me here.”

 

Cordelia blushes, but the other woman is still smiling. “I love it.” She eyes the plush bunny wrapped in Violet’s arm and squats down to be at eye-level with her new student. “And who might this be?”

 

“Bunny,” Violet says. “She wanted to come see my school, too.”

 

“I’m so glad you brought her,” Misty says. Violet beams, and Cordelia is unspeakably thankful for how comfortable her teacher has made her. Misty tilts her head, blue eyes bright as she smiles at Violet. “What does she think of the place so far?”

 

“She likes it,” Violet answers, a smile finding its way to her face.

 

“Well, I hope you do, too, Miss Violet. If you’d like, I can give you, and Bunny, and your mama a tour of the classroom?”

 

“Yes, please,” Violet nods, keeping her hand in Cordelia’s.

 

“Awesome.” Misty rises to stand at her full height, a few inches taller than Cordelia, and walks over to the main whiteboard. It’s covered in oversized, colorful magnets of numbers and letters of the alphabet. To its right is a large poster board with one, bigger frog, and thirteen smaller ones – all of them smiling. The words “Kindergarten is Toad-ally Awesome” are pasted at the top.

 

“Look, here?” Misty points to it. She reads the words to Violet, who giggles. “See if you can find your name.” Misty looks up at Cordelia, her eyes asking if Violet _could_ , indeed, find her name. Cordelia smiles and gives a succinct nod, so both women watch as Violet scans the board.

 

“That’s mine!” She finally says. Violet jumps up to touch the frog with her name on it, and turns around to see bright smiles from both her mother and teacher.

 

“Good job, Vi,” Cordelia praises. She runs a hand through Violet’s dark blonde hair and takes her hand again so they can continue Misty’s tour.

 

Misty walks them past the tables, each with four child-size chairs at it, where Violet again finds her name at her designated spot. Behind the tables, there’s a large arts and crafts area with a plethora of supplies, all organized in drawers. Finally, on the other side of the classroom is an open space with bean bags and wall-to-wall bookshelves.

 

Cordelia laughs upon seeing yet another large, handmade poster, which features a frog hopping from one lily pad to the next, above the designated reading area. “See that, Vi?” She asks her daughter. “It says, ‘Leap Into a Great Book’.”

 

Misty grins proudly. “Kindergarten is where we’ll start learning how to read, so this is where you can check out any book you like and even take it home to practice with mom or dad.”

 

Violet furrows her small brows and looks up at her mother. She tugs on Cordelia’s hand until Cordelia, smiling apologetically at Misty, bends down to let Violet whisper something in her ear.

 

“You can ask Miss Day,” Cordelia tells her. “I’m sure she’ll be able to answer.”

 

Violet looks between the stacks of books and her new teacher. “Miss Day?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Am I allowed to read here by myself? Without my Mama?”

 

“You can read here by yourself just about any time you like, darling.  Are you reading already?” Violet nods, so Misty squats to meet her at eye level again. “That’s very impressive, Violet.” She smiles. “What’s your favorite book?”

 

Violet hardly has to think before answering. “Brown Bear, Brown Bear,” she says, and Misty laughs happily.

 

“Well, I know I’ve got that one in here. You know why?” Violet shakes her head. “Because it’s got a frog!” Misty reiterates the part of the book that she’s sure Violet will recognize. “ _Green Frog, Green Frog, what do you see?”_ She says, and Violet’s eyes light up as she giggles.

 

“Mama,” she says, in awe as she looks at Cordelia, “she knows it!”

 

“She sure does,” Cordelia says, laughing herself. An immense wave of relief washes over her as she watches the interaction between Violet and her new teacher. Though they’ve only known Miss Day for ten minutes, Cordelia feels sure that the woman will look out for Violet.

 

“That reminds me,” Misty says, and rises again, “we’ve still got the last part of the tour. Come over to my desk.”

 

Instead of taking Cordelia’s hand, Violet skips excitedly behind Misty until she sees the large tank on her teacher’s desk.

 

“What is it?” Violet asks, looking desperately to see something moving inside the glass enclosure.

 

“See, right there?” Misty asks quietly. “Sitting on that rock? He’s just relaxing right now.”

 

Violet gasps. “A frog! A real one!”

 

“That’s right. His name is Jeremiah. He’s not really a bullfrog, but don’t tell anybody.”

 

“That’s a funny name for a frog,” Violet giggles.

 

“It’s from a song,” Cordelia explains.

 

She feels Misty’s eyes on her as soon as the words have left her mouth. When she turns to offer a smile, she finds that Misty is watching her, blue eyes scanning Cordelia’s brown ones while her mouth turns upwards in the tiniest smile.

 

Cordelia coughs, embarrassed, and self-consciously brushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

 

“I meant to tell you: I’m sure you’ve seen Violet’s file, but she’s allergic to—”

 

“Peanuts,” Misty finishes for her.

 

Cordelia exhales, her face relaxing so that a thankful smile can appear. “Yes. She has an EpiPen, and it will be in a designated pocket in her backpack every day.”

 

Misty nods. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

They’re quiet for a few moments, both of them watching Violet.

 

“It’s a lot more colorful in here than most of the other classrooms,” Cordelia finally says.

 

“Yeah,” Misty nods. She lowers her voice and faces away from Violet, who is so enraptured with the frog that Misty knows she wouldn’t hear her regardless. “I don’t know what all of the other teachers have stuck up their butts,” she says, earning a shocked and muffled laugh from Cordelia. “I mean, it’s not like the school encourages decorating or anything, but I don’t see any reason not to.”

 

“So you picked the frog theme, then?” Cordelia asks, still smiling.

 

“You’d better believe it,” Misty says. “I love the little things. Grew up around the Bayou, so those suckers were everywhere.”

 

Cordelia is about to ask her more when the sound of people in the hallway outside the classroom pulls both women out of their conversation. Cordelia finds herself irrationally annoyed with the interruption, but instantly chides herself. _Violet has had enough time._ _Twenty minutes alone with the teacher is more than most will get._

 

“Duty calls,” Misty says to her. Cordelia thinks that she sounds a bit reluctant herself, before remembering that this is Misty’s job and her daily life and that certainly couldn’t be so.

 

While Misty leaves to go greet the group of parents and children entering the room, Cordelia returns her attention to her daughter, still watching Jeremiah in awe.

 

“Ready to go, my love?”

 

“Do we have to?”

 

“Yes,” Cordelia laughs.

 

Violet takes her mother’s hand. “I like my classroom, Mama.”

 

“I like it, too, babe. You get to come back tomorrow; isn’t that fun?”

 

“Yep!”

 

Cordelia leads Violet back over to the door, where Misty is standing to greet more new parents and students.

 

“What do you say to Miss Day, Vi?”

 

“Thank you,” Violet says sweetly.

 

“Thank _you_ , sugar.” Misty crouches down and opens her arms, so Violet happily goes in for a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

 

Violet nods and Misty rises to be back at standing level. “It was great meeting you, too, Ms. Goode.”

 

“Please, call me Cordelia.”

 

“Cordelia, then. Will I be seeing you tomorrow, too?”

 

Cordelia nods, pleased with how well the morning had gone. _She must really like Violet. How could she not? Vi is a genius._

 

“I’ll be here,” she promises.

 

Misty nods, accepting the answer, and waves them off.

 

Cordelia waits until they’re back in the quiet of the car to ask Violet any questions. “So, baby, what did you think?”

 

“Mama, can I get a stuffed animal frog?”

 

. . .

 

By Tuesday morning, Cordelia is a nervous wreck and intent on Violet not finding out.

 

While orientation had gone as smoothly as she could have hoped and she didn’t worry much for Violet’s adjustment to school, she can’t shake the feeling that this is a huge milestone in her baby’s life – one that marks her truly beginning to grow up.

 

She’s just gotten Violet situated with breakfast at the table when her cell phone rings. Seeing the caller, she grabs the phone and begins walking out of the room and into a separate space.

 

“Mommy will be right back, sweetheart,” she promises to Violet, who is content with her bowl of cereal regardless.

 

Cordelia closes the door to her home office and taps the iPhone screen to answer.

 

“You have fifteen minutes before we have to leave.”

 

A few moments of silent, and then a rough sigh comes from the other line. Cordelia has to grit her teeth to avoid yelling.

 

“I’m not going to make it.” The voice is thick with sleep, and Cordelia rolls her eyes.

 

“I didn’t think you would, Hank.”

 

“Can you tell her I’m sorry?”

 

Cordelia scoffs. “You think I told her you were coming for this? My dead Aunt Mimi is more likely to show up to things than you.”

 

“That’s not fair, Cordelia. She’s going to think I don’t care.”

 

“You _don’t_ care, Hank. Or you’d be here. I’m not telling her shit for you. And, soon, I won’t be obligated to, anyway.”

 

The words slip out before Cordelia can stop them, and she hears the beginning of his protesting questions before hanging up the call. _I’ll deal with that later._

 

When she reappears in the kitchen, she joins Violet at the kitchen table. She’s content to simply watch her daughter eat, and tries to use it as a calming mechanism for the next ten minutes as they make small talk about her baby dolls.

 

“It’s about time to go, love,” Cordelia says. “Go and get your backpack.”

 

Violet nods and, scooting out of the chair, rushes over to where they had left her purple backpack on an armchair the night before. She gets it on, despite it taking up almost half of her body, and looks up at her mother.

 

“I’m ready!”

 

Cordelia feels tears brimming and squats down to open her arms. “Yeah, baby, you are.”

 

Violet goes in for a hug, which Cordelia uses to pick her up. While Violet’s head is resting on her shoulder, Cordelia takes the opportunity to wipe the tears that are already falling.

 

To her immense relief, Violet does not seem the least bit nervous about her first day. For the entire car ride and the time it takes to walk from the parking lot to the Lower School building, the five-year-old is teeming with excitement.

 

Cordelia makes her pause for a picture next to the stone monument sign for the school, because Violet in her tiny uniform and oversized backpack is just about the cutest thing Cordelia has ever seen.

 

She quickly checks in the front camera to make sure her eyes aren’t too red, and then takes Violet’s hand once more to find her classroom. This time, they’re the second to arrive.

 

Misty greets them at the door, her red, bohemian-style maxi dress flowing as she moves. She smiles, welcoming as ever at the sight of them.

 

“Hi, Miss Day,” Violet says.

 

“Happy First Day of Kindergarten, Violet,” Misty says, bending down to meet Violet’s eyes. “I’m so happy you’re here. I’ve even got a new friend for you to meet.”

 

Misty turns around and calls for the other child, who is sitting at the table he’d found his name at. “This is Ethan. Ethan, this is Violet. I think that you both like bunnies, because yesterday, Violet had her animal friend, Bunny, with her. And Ethan, you had little rabbits on your shirt; isn’t that right?”

 

Both five-year-olds nod, and Misty laughs. “Well, good, then. I think you’ll get along extra well. Why don’t you two go play until the rest of your class gets here?”

 

Violet turns around to look up at Cordelia. “Bye, Mommy. I’m gonna go play.”

 

Cordelia is sure that her heart shatters into a million tiny, irreparable pieces, but she squats down to hug her daughter anyway. “Bye, baby. Have a great day. I’ll be here as soon as you’re done, okay? I love you so much.”

 

“I love you, too, Mommy.”

 

Cordelia finally releases her, and is fervently wiping tears as she stands to her full height. She and Misty both hear the question of, “You brought a real bunny here?” as the children walk into the classroom together, which at least gets a laugh out of Misty.

 

“I’ve got tissues if you need them,” Misty tells her, voice soft.

 

“Do you have a time machine, too?” Cordelia asks.

 

“Not with me,” Misty answers, finally earning a smile from the tearful other woman. “I promise, I’m going to take great care of her.”

 

“I know,” Cordelia says. “Thank you.”

 

Misty nods. “I would say I’ll see you at three, but I can’t say I’m sure that you’re going to leave my door.”

 

“I’m gluing my feet to the floor right here outside the classroom as we speak,” Cordelia says, finally feeling steady enough to joke.

 

Misty laughs. “Go, enjoy your day. Try not to worry too much. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

 

Cordelia nods. She pokes her head in to give one more wave goodbye to Violet, but she and Ethan are already enraptured in building a LEGO tower, so she drops her arm.

 

“Okay. I’m going.”

 

“You’re welcome to stay; I could use the company,” Misty says. “And I always need an extra hand when one of them wets their pants.”

 

“I swear – I’m leaving.”

 

Misty grins. “See you at three.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thank you to all of the responses this story has gotten. Totally humbled and inspired by the love.
> 
> Chapter title from The Circle Game by Joni Mitchell.


	3. This Good I've Found

Cordelia has just made it back to her car when she finally checks her cell phone to find that she has five text messages.

 

_Marie Laveau, 8:58am_

Good luck today, Mama. She’ll be great.

 

 

_Coco, 9:02am_

So….

 

_Coco, 9:03am_

Did you make it out alive?

 

_Coco, 9:07am_

Txt me when you’ve dropped her off

 

 

_Hank Foxx, 9:04am_

Call me

 

 

Cordelia first types out responses to Marie and Coco, a thank you text to her colleague and a quick selfie of her tear-stained face to her best friend with a message.

 

 

_Outgoing, 9:10am_

I’m alive. And on a mission to hunt down and murder whoever invented Kindergarten.

 

 

She ignores the text from Hank for the time being, instead pulling out of the parking lot and finding the closest drive-thru Starbucks. While paying for her coffee, she notices that it’s officially 9:15, the time that Violet’s school day officially starts. _She’s fine. Her teacher is great. She has Ethan. … I don’t even know Ethan. I need to meet Ethan’s parents._

 

She pulls past the drive-thru window and begins driving aimlessly. She had, pointedly, not planned a single thing to do for the entire day; she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on any task anyway.

 

She’s only been driving for ten minutes when Hank calls again, toggling the Bluetooth system in her car. She rolls her eyes and answers the call.

 

“So? How was it?” He asks.

 

“It was fine.”

 

“She was happy?”

 

“Yes, Hank,” she says thinly. “Her school is one of the best in the city, something you’d know if you’d bothered to make it to any of the tours.” _One of the most expensive, too, but that’s no thanks to you, either._

 

Hank ignores the comment. “What did you mean earlier? When you said that you wouldn’t have to worry about telling her things for me?”

 

Cordelia sighs, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. _May as well tell him now_. “I want to discuss the potential of re-defining our custody rights.”

 

“What the fuck does that mean?”

 

“It means that I want more time with Violet.”

 

Hank doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Cordelia half-wonders if he’s going to hang up on her.

 

“Jesus, Cordelia,” he seethes. “I only have her twice a month and you want to take that away from me? I’m her father. Think about that. I’m her father and I get her for just five days out of every month.”

 

Cordelia wants to say that if he could afford to have Violet for longer and be able to maintain the lifestyle she’s used to living with her mother, maybe the circumstances would be different – but she bites her tongue. She’ll save it for the judge.

 

She had, after all, gotten off quite well in terms of custody.

 

They had divorced just before Violet’s first birthday. They hadn’t conceived their child with the intention of fixing their marriage — Cordelia had wanted a baby for as long as she could remember — but, when Cordelia’s pregnancy test came out positive, they both agreed to see it as an opportunity to make a new start. To have a happy family, hopefully free of the shadows of the last three years.

 

The ignorant bliss lasted almost six months, when Cordelia’s third trimester hit her hard and fast. She’d been moody, achey, and lacked any desire for sex. In her seventh month of pregnancy, her newly razor-sharp nose sensed the smell of cheap perfume on his shirt when he came home late one night and stumbled into bed next to her.

 

She hadn’t said anything then, terrified to be a single mother of a newborn. She certainly didn’t tell Fiona, who had been vociferously skeptical of — if not downright hateful towards — Hank since he and Cordelia had started seriously dating.

 

But, when Violet finally arrived, and Hank still seemed more interested in “staying late at work” and “going out for drinks with the guys,” Cordelia realized she may as well have been on her own.

 

As the mother and the family’s breadwinner, she was granted legal and physical custody of Violet for 25 days of the month. It had helped that, especially given her career in the Law, Cordelia knew exactly how to represent herself in court. Hank received joint legal custody, giving him a say in Violet’s upbringing and eventual schooling, religion, and medical care, and got Violet every other Friday afternoon through Sunday evening.

 

It was far from perfect in Cordelia’s eyes, but it was as good as she could hope for back then. That had all changed over the last few years.

 

“I’ve told you before not to smoke in front of her,” Cordelia says, keeping her voice level. “She’s come home six times now with the smell of cigarettes on some of her clothes. And I know you’ve brought women around her, which—”

 

“I absolutely have not.”

 

“Oh, so she made that up?”

 

When Cordelia doesn’t get an answer, she continues. “We’ve talked about that. I know that you wouldn’t appreciate me bringing another man around her without asking you first, and I expect the same.”

 

“What are you saying, Cordelia? That you want to permanently take my daughter away from me?”

 

_Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying, you moron_. “I just want to re-open the conversation. She’s starting school; she needs stability.”

 

“You have no right to do that,” Hank says, and then Cordelia _really_ has to bite her tongue. “She’s my kid, too. Smoking a couple of cigarettes is not going to convince a judge that I’m incapable of caring for her. She may not be eating caviar for breakfast when she’s with me, but she’s happy.”

 

Cordelia shakes her head. She reaches for the mini bottle of Advil in her car’s console, swallowing two pills for the migraine that talking to Hank always seems to elicit.  

 

“We really don’t need to discuss this right now,” she says. “It’s Violet’s first day of Kindergarten; I have other things to worry about.”

 

“I’m coming with you to pick her up.”

 

Cordelia opens her mouth to protest, racking her brain for any possible reason to tell him no. She can’t think of anything that would hold, especially when Hank is as fired up as he is now, so she gives in.

 

“Fine. Pick-up is at three.”

 

“Send me the address.”

 

Cordelia gapes. “How the hell were you going to get her to school when she’s with you if— You know what? Never mind.”

 

“Just text me the address, Cordelia.”

 

“Are you sure you can get off work?”

 

“Yes, I can. How did you think I’d get her from school when I have her?”

 

“I genuinely don’t know,” she says honestly. “I figured you’d ask for my babysitter’s number.”

 

“I’ll be there at three,” is all Hank says, and he hangs up.

 

Cordelia grimaces.

 

“Asshole.”

 

. . .

 

Cordelia is back in the parent parking lot of St. Martin’s Episcopal School by two o'clock, her white Audi again among one of the only ones there. She counts three other cars, finding comfort in the fact that she’s not the only parent who had arrived embarrassingly early.

 

She pulls out her work phone and reads through emails to pass the time, but stops when she realizes half an hour later that she’s just been reading the same two paragraphs over and over again.

 

Resigned, she uses the car’s system to call Coco.

 

“Are you busy?”

 

“Nope,” comes Coco’s voice. “My next showing is at 3:15. What’s up? You sitting in the parking lot of Vi’s school?”

 

Cordelia briefly looks out her window and then in the rear view mirror. “How the hell— ”

 

“She gets out at 3, right? It’s 2:30. What else would you be doing?” She teases. “Just tell me you haven’t been sitting there all day.”

 

“I have _not_ , thank you very much. I ran errands, went through Starbucks four times, and, oh, how could I forget my day’s highlight: I had a lovely conversation with Hank.”

 

“Ugh. What did he want?”

 

“It was my fault,” Cordelia says. “I accidentally let it slip earlier that I want to schedule a hearing about Vi.”

 

“So, that didn’t go well.”

 

“Not exactly. He yelled about how she’s his, too, and how his days are already limited. He also lied straight to my face about bringing her around whatever whores he’s been sleeping with. And now he’s coming to meet me at the school to pick her up.”

 

“Gross.”

 

“Tell me about it. Why did you ever let me marry him?”

 

“We are _not_ having this conversation.”  


“I know, I’m kidding.” Cordelia drags her palms down both sides of her face, as if to manually drain the stress from her brain. “I’m so sick of him. I know he’s Violet’s dad, but I really can’t wait to schedule this hearing and be done with all of his bullshit.” She pauses. “Does that make me horrible?”

 

“A little,” Coco says, and Cordelia can detect the teasing nature of her voice. “But, not really. Hank has put you through the wringer. And Violet is better off with you.”

 

“I know. I just need to have an airtight case for the judge.”

 

“This is what you do for a living, Cords. A few months from now, you’ll have Violet to yourself and the Hank nightmare will be over. For now, just focus on how cute and happy Vi is going to look when she sees you waiting outside her classroom.”

 

Cordelia sighs. “You’re right. Thank you. Love you.”

 

“Love you, too. I’ll call later to hear about her day.”

 

“Okay.” Cordelia smiles and, after bidding Coco goodbye, ends the call.

 

The parking lot around her is filling up, but the space to the left to her isn’t taken until 2:51, when a very familiar truck pulls into it.

 

Cordelia groans, checks her makeup, and gets out of her car.

 

“Hello, Hank.”

 

“Cordelia,” he says. He’s dressed in his usual work attire of jeans, boots, and a flannel, and Cordelia chides herself for thinking he’d show up dressed any nicer for the occasion.

 

“She’s in the Lower School part of campus,” Cordelia explains, and begins walking with him at her heel.

 

While the Upper School buildings are mostly free of any parents, there are plenty to be found in the K-5 area. Cordelia leads the way to Violet’s classroom, where a few parents are waiting outside. Cordelia introduces herself, and Hank follows her in doing so, until the final school bell rings.

 

Moments later, the door opens to reveal Misty Day, twelve packed-up kindergarteners all waiting behind her.

 

Cordelia spots Violet close to her teacher, and she barely has time to make eye contact with Misty before she’s bending to let Violet rush into her arms.

 

“Mama!”

 

Cordelia’s voice gets lost in her throat as her eyes start to well up again. She holds Violet close to her, swaying back and forth like she used to do when her daughter was a baby.

 

“I missed you so much. Did you have fun?”

 

“Uh-huh,” Violet says into Cordelia’s neck. “I missed you, too, Mommy.”

 

Cordelia lets out a laugh, one of relief, perhaps, as she tries to blink through her tears. She’s wiping them from her cheeks when Violet pulls away to look at her. “Don’t cry, Mama. I’m right here!”

 

Cordelia laughs again. “I know you are. I know. I love you so much.” She sniffles, remembering the man behind her. “Vi, look who else came to see you.”

 

Violet turns her head and sees Hank, who has his arms open for her.

 

“Hi, Daddy!”

 

“Hi, Vi!” Hank takes her into his arms and grins. “How was the first day? You’re such a grown-up now.”

 

“I’m not a grown-up, I’m still in Lower School!”

 

Hank laughs. “Yeah, but you shouldn’t be, because you’re too smart for your own good. That’s my Violet.” He hugs her before setting her down, and Cordelia feels a smug sense of satisfaction when Violet reaches for her mother to hold her again.

 

Cordelia kisses her cheek and then turns to see Misty, who is happily watching the reunions and helping to pair children with waiting parents. Cordelia watches as Misty cranes her neck to see further inside her classroom, and she feels an odd buzz looking at the expanse of skin between her dress-covered shoulder and her jawline.

 

She steels herself, knowing the appropriate next move, and turns to her ex-husband.

 

“Hank, this is Misty Day, Violet’s teacher.” She smiles thinly at Misty. “This is Violet’s father, Hank.”

 

“Hi,” Hank says. “Hank Foxx.” He sticks a hand out and Misty shakes it gladly.

 

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Foxx.” Misty looks between him and Cordelia. “Your daughter is an absolute joy.”

 

Cordelia beams. “Thank you.”

 

“And she is _very_ smart,” Misty adds, looking pointedly at Violet. She winks at her student and Violet giggles.

 

“Thank you, again,” Cordelia says. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“Looking forward to it,” Misty says. “Bye, Violet!”

 

“Bye, Miss Day!”

 

Cordelia carries Violet through the school and back to the parking lot, Hank following closely behind while their daughter talks all about the day she’d had. When they finally get to the car, Cordelia sets Violet down and tells her to say goodbye to Hank.

 

“Bye, Daddy.”

 

“Bye, sweetie. See you next weekend. I’ll pick you up from school that Friday.”

 

“Okay,” Violet says.

 

“Bye, Hank. We'll see you then.” Cordelia watches him get into his car and then helps Violet buckle herself into her booster seat.

 

Cordelia frames Violet’s face in her hands and kisses her nose. “I love you so much. I’m so glad you had a good day. What do you say we go get ice cream to celebrate?”

 

Violet gasps, her blue eyes widening in excitement. “Yes! Yes, please!”

 

Cordelia grins. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from This Feeling by Alabama Shakes.


	4. This Little Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super excited to share this chapter. Thank you to everyone who has left feedback! Come find me @tiffanysolitano on Twitter/Tumblr.
> 
> Chapter title from I'm in the Mood For Love by Frank Sinatra.

“That’s what we’ve compiled so far. We tried to stick to your key points as much as possible, so hopefully you’ll find it useful.”

 

Cordelia smiles at her team of attorneys. The three women she’d hand-picked to support her on the Duke Energy case have proven nothing but useful, and she tells them at every turn how thankful she is to have their assistance.

 

“This is fantastic,” she tells them honestly, looking between them and the files they’d brought to her desk. “I’ll review it and let you know if I’m missing anything.”

 

As the women nod and begin filing out of her office, Cordelia sees her cell phone lighting up from its dock on her desk. She picks it up, miffed by the sender.

 

 

_Fiona Goode, 1:18pm_

What time does Violet get out of school?

 

 

 

_Outgoing, 1:23pm_

3\. Why?

 

 

 

_Fiona Goode, 1:23pm_

Perfect. I land at 2. Should I meet you at her school?

 

 

Cordelia shakes her head and takes a long exhale.

 

 

_Outgoing, 1:24pm_

Why do you never tell me when you’re coming in?

 

 

 

_Fiona Goode, 1:24pm_

I just told you.

 

_Fiona Goode, 1:25pm_

What’s the school’s address?

 

 

Cordelia scoffs.

 

 

_Outgoing, 1:27pm_

We’ll see you at the house around 3:30.

 

 

 

_Fiona Goode, 1:27pm_

Fine. And I made a reservation for 8pm at The Roosevelt, so call your sitter.

 

 

 _What the fuck?_ Cordelia forces herself to take a deep breath. She realizes she could turn Fiona down; there are plenty of reasons that she could be unavailable tonight. She could have something at Violet’s school, or plans with Coco, or work, or a date. _Okay, not a date._

 

Still, though, the part deep down inside of her that she has never, ever been able to shake, wants to spend time with her mother. It’s not as if her life is in shambles; Violet is happy at school and Cordelia herself is thriving at work. That in mind, she sends a quick text to Zoe to ask if she’s free to babysit tonight.

 

She gets Violet exactly at 3:00 and, despite it having been three weeks since she started school, Cordelia still gets just as excited to see her every day as she was the first.

 

“Mommy! Look what I made today!” Violet cries, running towards her mother with a piece of construction paper in both hands.

 

Cordelia bends to hug and kiss her and then looks at her daughter’s work of art. Violet had glued a random combination of sequins and felt shapes onto the paper, and Cordelia gasps appropriately. “Oh, sweetheart, this is absolutely gorgeous.”

 

“And!” Violet is buzzing with energy, rocking on the tips of her toes. “Wait, I forgot my other craft!”

 

She’s just turning to run back into her classroom when Misty steps forward with something in her hand.

 

“Forget something, baby doll?”

 

Misty hands her the flower bouquet made of pipe cleaners that Violet had made earlier, and then watches as Violet turns and offers it as a gift to Cordelia.

 

“These are for you, Mama. Miss Day helped me. They’re violets, see! Like me!”

 

As much as Cordelia knows she’d be mortified if she suddenly burst into tears, it takes everything in her not to. She traces one fingertip along the purple fuzz of the flowers, her soft expression growing slowly into a smile.

 

“Thank you so much, Vi. This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

 

She looks up at Misty, who Cordelia is surprised to find is staring right back at her.

 

“Very glad that you like them,” is all Misty says, and Cordelia feels a warm, pleasant feeling blooming in her chest.

 

She rises again and, takes Violet’s hand. “Ready to go?” Cordelia asks her.

 

“Yep. Bye, Miss Day! See you tomorrow!”

 

“See you tomorrow, Violet,” Misty says.

 

Cordelia offers a goodbye wave, and one side of Misty’s mouth turns up as she bends her fingers to return the gesture.

 

Unwillingly, she finds herself thinking about that same expression on Misty’s face until she’s finally forced to snap out if it.

 

“Mama? … Mama? … Mommy!” Violet finally says, louder than usual as they walk back through Lower School.

 

“Sorry, honey, Mommy was just thinking. What’s up?” _What the hell is wrong with me?_

 

“Can you buy the — what are they called? The thingies that I made the flowers with?”

 

“Pipe cleaners?” Cordelia holds up the bouquet in the hand that’s not currently in Violet’s.

 

“Uh-huh, those! Can you get them? And I can make them at home?”

 

“Sure, sweetheart. We can do that.”

 

In the emotional, and confusing, whirlwind of the last five minutes, Cordelia had almost forgotten that her mother would be meeting them at the house upon their arrival.

 

“Bye the way, Vi,” Cordelia says, once they’ve pulled out of the parking lot and on their way home. “Grandma is here.”

 

“What?” Violet shrieks. “Grandma? Today? Where?”

 

“She’s going to come over to the house when we’re back from school.”

 

Violet immediately begins bouncing in her booster seat. “I can show her my art! And my flowers! And my other things on the fridge!”

 

“You sure can,” Cordelia says, trying to keep any ounce of sarcasm out of her voice. Not that Violet would be able to detect it, anyway.

 

Since Violet’s birth, Fiona had had absolutely no qualms about showering her granddaughter with affection — frequently in the form of lavish gifts. Despite her and Cordelia’s strained relationship, Cordelia knew that Fiona genuinely loved Violet and would always do anything in her power to protect her.

 

Which is usually why, when Fiona is choosing which aspect of Cordelia’s life to pick on her over, it’s almost always Hank: why she married him, why she let him get away with any custody of Violet, and, more than once, why she didn’t “just hire someone to take him out.”

 

True to her word, Fiona Goode arrives at her daughter’s home just ten minutes after Cordelia made it there herself. She’s cutting up apple slices for Violet’s after-school snack when the doorbell rings, and Violet sprints to the front door.

 

Cordelia barely gets out a, “Be careful, please!” before Violet has peeked through the side window to see her grandmother.

 

“It’s Grandma!” Violet cries, still jumping. “Can I open it?”

 

“Yes, you can open it,” Cordelia says. By the time she’s finished cutting up the apple and plating it for Violet, Fiona is walking into her kitchen with the five-year-old in her arms.

 

“Hello, Cordelia.”

 

Fiona sets Violet down and Cordelia instructs her to sit and eat her snack.

 

“Hello, Mother.” Cordelia offers an amicable hug, and Fiona makes herself comfortable at the kitchen table.

 

As she moves to sit, Cordelia watches her mother look around the room. She smiles to herself when she sees Fiona’s eyes finally settle on Violet; she knows that the one thing Fiona would never have grounds to critique is Cordelia’s home or how clean she keeps it.

 

“How was my favorite granddaughter’s day at school?”

 

“You always say that,” Violet giggles. “I’m your only granddaughter!”

 

“But it’s still true,” Fiona tells her. “Even if I had other ones, you’d still be my favorite.”

 

Violet beams and Cordelia sits down next to her.

 

“Why don’t you show Grandma what you made today?”

 

Cordelia offers the two arts and crafts projects to Violet, who gasps in excitement and turns back towards her grandmother.

 

“Look! I made these at school.”

 

As Fiona looks at the art, Violet’s expression immediately becomes one of concern. “Grandma?”

 

“Yes, my precious girl?”

 

“Are you gonna be here tomorrow, still?”

 

“I’m afraid I have to go tomorrow, darling. Why do you ask?”

 

Violet’s lower lip trembles, and Cordelia knows she’s about to cry. She sets a gentle hand on Violet’s back. “Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

 

Violet is always used to Fiona leaving as quickly as she came, and she’s never been visibly upset about it before.

 

“I don’t have anything to give Grandma,” she says, blue eyes welling with tears.

 

Cordelia’s heart wrenches. For just being five years old, Violet has always shown more compassion and empathy than anyone she’s ever known.

 

“Oh, Violet,” Fiona says, “I don’t need anything at all. _You’re_ my gift.”

 

Violet looks between Fiona and her school crafts, clearly wanting to offer one to her grandmother.

 

“Vi,” Cordelia says softly, “why don’t you give Grandma the bouquet of flowers? You can always make me another one. Remember how we said we were going to buy them to keep at home?”

 

Violet nods, seemingly more hopeful about this idea. She looks at Fiona. “Grandma?”

 

“Yes?”

  
“Can I give you the flowers I made at school?” Violet picks them up and offers them to Fiona. “They’re violets, like my name.”

 

“Oh, Violet, these are the most beautiful flowers in the world!” Fiona pulls the five-year-old into her lap, showering her with cuddles and kisses. “It means so much to me that you’d give these to me, you know that?”

 

Violet grins, her tears subsided, and Fiona gives her one last kiss to her head before setting her back in her own chair. “I have a gift for you, too,” Fiona tells her. She reaches into her purse to pull out a square, Tiffany blue box, complete with a white ribbon.

 

Cordelia watches as Violet very carefully tugs the ribbon undone and opens the box to reveal a solid gold ball wire bracelet.

 

“Mother,” Cordelia says softly, but Violet’s eyes are wide as Fiona smiles at her granddaughter.

 

“Do you like it?”

 

Violet nods. “Can I put it on?”

 

“Of course you can, darling girl.” Fiona helps her slide it onto Violet’s proffered left wrist, securing it so that it stays. “Well, look at that; it fits perfectly.”

 

“Mama, look,” Violet beams, and holds her arm out for Cordelia to see.

 

“It’s gorgeous, Vi. What do you say to Grandma?”

  
Violet crawls back into Fiona’s lap, hugging her tightly. Her “thank you” gets muffled into Fiona’s shoulder as Fiona kisses the side of Violet’s head, and, for a brief moment that Cordelia feels horrid guilt about, she doesn’t know if she’s ever envied her daughter more.

 

. . .

 

“I love you. Be good for Zoe.”

 

“I’m always good,” Violet insists, and Cordelia laughs.

 

“You’re right, you are.” She sets a pajama’d Violet back down and smiles at Zoe.

 

A senior at in college at Loyola, Zoe had been babysitting Violet for three years. She adored Violet, admired Cordelia, and especially appreciated Cordelia’s always more-than-generous pay. The feeling had always been mutual; Cordelia knew how much Violet loved Zoe, and she herself trusted the younger girl implicitly. She was also particularly thankful that Zoe would be staying in New Orleans for graduate school, and therefore would be available to babysit for at least another four years should she so choose.

 

“It’s a school night, so bedtime at 8:30,” Cordelia says, mostly to Violet. She kisses Violet once more and thanks Zoe again before walking outside to meet her Uber driver.

 

When she arrives at the restaurant within the Grand Roosevelt Hotel, she finds out from the host that her mother has already been seated and is waiting for her.

 

As Cordelia sits, Fiona waves over the waiter to take her daughter’s drink order. Cordelia orders a vodka martini and Fiona leans back in her chair comfortably.

 

“So, Delia. Tell your mother what’s new.”

 

“I won the Duke Energy case,” Cordelia says, folding her napkin into her lap. She looks up for the other woman’s reaction, but Fiona hardly does more than arch her eyebrows.

 

“Impressive. What did Marie have to say about that?”

 

“She was proud, as a mentor and a colleague.” Cordelia tilts her head. “Why do you care what Marie thinks about it?”

 

“I’m just wondering when she’s going to catch onto the fact that she could be your mother and yet you’re twice the lawyer she is.”

 

Cordelia feels a warm blush fill her cheeks at the compliment, one she’s grateful Fiona can’t see due to the dim lighting of the restaurant. Even if Fiona’s words aren’t true — Marie Laveau is one of the most highly regarded attorneys in Louisiana — Cordelia is in no position to turn down the sentiment.

 

“Or maybe you should have been the one to figure it out,” Fiona continues. The waiter sets down Cordelia’s drink and leaves just as quickly. “Then again, you always have been one to settle for less than you’re worth, I guess.”

 

“Well, you sure know how to ruin a compliment, Mother,” Cordelia says bitterly. She takes a sip of her martini, feeling the need to have alcohol in her system just to have the conversation.

 

“Speaking of, how’s the ex?”

 

Cordelia sighs. “I’m going to fight him for full custody of Violet.”

 

“Which you should have done years ago—”

 

“Enough, Mother,” Cordelia snaps. “You gave me hardly an hour’s notice that you were coming into town, and I still made time for you and altered my schedule to let you spend time with Violet. I’m not going to sit here just to listen to you hurl insults at me for how I live my life.”

 

Fiona sips on her own martini and nods once. “Fine. I’m sorry, Delia. I just want the best for you, and for my granddaughter.”

 

“Well, your granddaughter is _my daughter_. Mine. And, since I knew of her very existence, I have acted in what I have believed to be her best interest every second of every day.”

 

Fiona sighs. “How are you going to get her from Hank?”

 

“Complete sole custody, legal and physical, is difficult to get. I couldn’t have gotten it four years ago. But now I have a case, and I know more about what I’m doing. I provide the healthiest and most stable life for Violet. Hank has thrown me a few bones, too; he’s smoked and drank around her, and Violet has told me she’s met a few women that he’s introduced her to.”

 

“Disgusting pig,” Fiona says.

 

“Correct. I’ll just have to prove that he’s irresponsible and incapable of providing a nurturing home.”

 

Fiona hums and takes another sip of her cocktail. The waiter returns to take their orders, and Fiona raises her glass once he’s gone.

 

“Well, cheers, then, Delia,” she says, and Cordelia clinks her glass to Fiona’s accordingly. “To getting Violet to yourself, as it should be.”

 

. . .

 

Violet has been in school for nearly two months when Cordelia gets her first call from the school office. Panicked, she answers her cell phone so quickly that she isn’t even sure it could ring.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hi, Ms. Goode. This is Patricia from the front office at St. Martin’s. Please don’t worry, everything is fine.”

 

Cordelia isn’t sure if Patricia always has to say that line when she calls parents during the school day, or if she just threw it in there in response to Cordelia’s tone, but either way, it does little to calm Cordelia’s nerves.

 

“Miss Day brought Violet to the office because she says she forgot her lunch at home. Would you like to speak with her?”

 

“Yes,” Cordelia says immediately. “Yes, please.”

 

After a bit of shuffling, Violet’s voice comes through the phone.

 

“Mama?”

 

“Hi, sweetheart. It’s me — It’s Mommy. I’m so sorry we forgot your lunch; it must be sitting on the kitchen counter.”

 

“It’s okay,” Violet says easily. “Nora and Ethan said I could share with them, but Miss Day said that I shouldn’t in case they have peanuts.”

 

Cordelia exhales. “Yes, Miss Day is right. Don’t worry about it at all, baby. I’m going to pick something up for you and I will have it there by lunchtime. I promise.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay. I love you. Can I talk to Miss Day?”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Cordelia?”

 

“Misty, hi. Thank you so much for having her call — and for making sure she didn’t share with anyone.”

“Of course.”

 

“Lunch is at 12, right?”

 

“That’s right. You can drop it off any time before then, though. Whatever is easiest for you.”

 

Cordelia eyes her calendar on her computer. “I probably won’t get there until just before 12. That’s still okay?”

 

“That’s absolutely perfect. Just bring it to her classroom.”

 

“I will. Thank you, again.”

 

When Cordelia arrives to the school, a to-go bag from one of Violet’s favorite sandwich places in hand, it’s ten minutes until lunch time. Just as Misty had instructed, she goes to Violet’s classroom and knocks on the door.

 

Misty sees her through the glass and smiles, and Cordelia watches as she gestures something, presumably to Violet, and nods towards the door.

 

“Mama!” Violet cheers once the door opens.

 

“Hi, sweetheart.” Cordelia gives her a hug and hands her the bag. “I’m so sorry, again.”

 

“That’s okay.”

 

“I got you a grilled cheese from Good Bird,” Cordelia says, and Violet grins.

 

“Thanks, Mama! I’m gonna go show Ethan and Nora,” she says, and skips back into her classroom, where all twelve kindergarteners are lining up to go to the cafeteria.

 

Just as Cordelia is about to bid Misty goodbye and thank her again, a young woman comes up to the door to collect the students. They follow her out like little ducklings, all one head behind another. Violet waves to her mother when she walks past and Cordelia blows her a kiss. When they’re all filed out, Misty laughs at the look of awe on Cordelia’s face.

 

“I’ve got them trained pretty well, huh?”

 

“You definitely do,” Cordelia agrees. “Was that—”

 

“Teacher’s assistant.” Misty smiles mischievously. “Mostly college kids who want to be teachers. They get their training by walking the students to and from activities and, of course, supervising Lunch.”

 

“Sounds like a blast,” Cordelia says wryly.

 

“Tell me about it.”

  
“At least it’s a nice break for you, though.” _What are you doing? You have a job to get back to, and so does she._ “I imagine you’d need one.”

 

“Nah. I’ve got a great group this year,” Misty says, and her tone is so pure, so honest, that Cordelia truly believes her. “But,” Misty continues, leaning closer to Cordelia and dropping her voice lower, “Violet’s my favorite.”

 

Misty winks, and Cordelia’s face floods with heat. “Stop it,” she says, but she can’t help the smile that’s growing on her face. “You probably say that to everyone.”

 

“Are you kidding? You think I’d tell Arnold the Asshole’s parents that he was my favorite?”

 

Cordelia laughs. “There’s no Arnold in your class.”

 

“Last year,” Misty explains. “I love kids, but this kid was sent from Hell itself. He would pull down his pants, completely randomly, and pee on my floor.”

 

“No,” Cordelia says, as if she’s daring Misty to tell her she’s messing with her.

 

“Oh, yeah. We had to ask the family to leave the school.”

 

Cordelia shakes her head, eyes wide in disbelief. “It sounds like the bar is pretty low, then.”

 

“Well, after Violet, the bar is astronomical.” She smiles. “Really, you have done an incredible job with her. You and Mr. Foxx.”

 

“Oh—” Cordelia blushes again. “We’re not — I mean, he’s not — I mean—” _Speak, you idiot._ “It’s complicated.” Misty nods knowingly, but Cordelia opens her mouth again. “Not, not complicated in _that_ way. Just — complicated. Sorry.” _Mortifying._

 

“Don’t be,” Misty laughs, and it relaxes Cordelia considerably. “I’ve only met your — ex? —” Cordelia nods, “—husband a handful of times, but, in my humble opinion, Violet’s got a lot more of you than she has of him.”

 

Cordelia swallows the lump in her throat. “I hope so,” she says.

 

Neither woman says anything for a few seconds, but then Cordelia’s cell phone buzzes and breaks the moment.

 

“I should be getting back to work,” she says. “Thank you, again.”

 

“Any time,” Misty promises.

 

From the moment she walks away from the classroom door to the time she pulls back into the parking lot of Laveau & Goode, Cordelia is on autopilot.

 

She replays every interaction she can remember that she’s had with Misty in her head: her smiles at pick-up and drop-off, how she speaks so passionately about the things she loves, the way she’d looked at Cordelia when she realized that she understood Jeremiah’s name so instantaneously.

 

Cordelia’s heart hammers in her chest.

 

She definitely has a crush on Miss Day.


	5. Can We Burn Something, Babe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The very first scene from this story that I ever wrote is in this chapter. Shout out to Jacquelyn, who read it back then and has been the best cheerleader ever since. (And, if you haven't read her fics, run, don't walk: leatherandlace).
> 
> Chapter title from Love on the Brain by Rihanna.

“Violet, come eat, please.”

 

Cordelia has just finished cutting Violet’s grilled chicken breast into bite-sized pieces when the five-year-old arrives at the table. Violet sets Bunny in the chair next to her and then gets herself situated.

 

“So,” Cordelia says, sitting across from her daughter with a plate of her own, “did you have a nice time with Daddy?”

 

“I guess so,” Violet shrugs.

 

Cordelia’s heart clenches, but she doesn’t want to worry Violet, so she keeps her tone casual. “What did you guys do?”

 

“We went to the park,” Violet says, forking a piece of broccoli. “Daddy let me play on the iPad yesterday during his football games on TV.”

 

“Did you do anything else yesterday?”

 

Violet seems to think about this for a few moments, but decidedly shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

 

Cordelia takes a calming breath and tries not to take her anger out on the food so that her knife doesn’t permanently ruin the nice plate. While it’s not unusual for Hank to let Violet watch TV or play online games for hours on end, Cordelia has told him multiple times that she needs to be doing more productive, healthy activities.

 

The fact that he’s still doing this after Cordelia has already told him she’s going to fight for full custody, well — that just pisses her off.

 

The only thing that Hank consistently does correctly is always bringing Violet back before she’s had dinner on Sundays. Cordelia knows he gives her plenty of cheap junk food when she’s with him, so the least she can do to rectify it is ply Violet with protein and vegetables as soon as she’s back home.

 

“Did Daddy have any of his friends over this time?” Cordelia asks.

 

“Only boy friends,” Violet says. “He watched the football with them. No girl friends.”

 

Cordelia nods. “Did you know them?”

 

“No. I just sat in the chair and played on Daddy’s iPad. It has a crack on it.” Violet looks down at the asparagus on her plate and wrinkles her nose. “Do I have to eat the ‘sparagus?”

 

“I’d like for you to take a couple of bites, please, love.”

 

Violet sighs, and Cordelia can’t resist the urge to move and pull Violet into her lap. “I’m so happy that you’re home, now,” she says, and kisses her head. She rocks Violet back and forth.

 

And when Violet lets out a, “Me, too, Mama,” Cordelia makes a mental note to submit her request for a family court hearing as soon as possible.

 

After dinner and her bath, Violet is picking out pajamas in her bedroom while Cordelia empties her duffel bag from the weekend in the laundry room.

 

She smells the awful combination at once — Marlboros and Febreeze — and drops the clothes into the washing machine.

 

_What a fucking idiot. I’m going to kill him._

 

. . .

 

It’s early one Friday in October when Cordelia is racing around her bedroom, desperately trying to find a pair of earrings she knows she bought.

 

She feels like these earrings, in particular, should stand out among her other jewelry, because they’re not exactly what Cordelia would call her style. She’d bought the slightly Bohemian-influenced pair on a whim last week, though, and she’s positive that they’re somewhere in her bathroom or oversized walk-in closet.

 

“Mommy?” Violet walks into her mother’s bedroom. “I’m ready for the button.”

 

Cordelia pauses her searching to bend down at Violet’s level. Violet turns around so that Cordelia can button up the top of her navy blue uniform dress, and then hops up onto the already-made bed.

 

“You look pretty, Mommy.”

 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Cordelia says, looking through her jewelry box for the second time. “Mommy just needs to find one thing and then we can go eat breakfast.”

 

“What are you looking for?”

 

“A special pair of earrings that I want to wear with this dress,” Cordelia answers.

 

“Why can’t you wear other earrings?”

 

_Because I have a horrible crush on your teacher and I think she will like them._ “Because I just think these ones will look best; that’s all.”

 

Cordelia finally finds them after another minute, hidden behind a picture frame on her vanity. She fixes them into her ears, and smiles at the way the moonstone clusters hang and glisten from the solid gold chains on either side.

 

“Like them?” Cordelia asks, giving Violet a close-up view before helping her off the bed.

 

Violet gasps and reaches out a hand to touch the expensive earrings. Cordelia laughs at the look of wonder on her face; she has a feeling her daughter is going to be a very easy lady to please, one day.

 

When they arrive at school, Violet is absolutely ecstatic to see that many of the classrooms, at least on the outside, have Halloween decorations. She practically shrieks when she finds that her own classroom is completely covered in decor.

 

“Hi, Miss Day!” Violet says, hardly looking at her teacher in favor of keeping her eyes on everything else in the room.

 

“Hi, Vi,” Misty laughs. “Go on in, check it all out.”

  
Violet barely remembers to hug Cordelia goodbye before darting into her classroom to explore each new thing.

 

“Did you do all of this yourself?” Cordelia asks.

 

“I did,” Misty answers proudly, leaning up against the doorframe. She runs one hand through thick, blonde waves, and Cordelia watches as her fingers skillfully avoid any of her rings getting caught in her hair. “Well, me and some wine,” Misty continues. “I was here pretty late last night.”

 

Cordelia laughs and takes another look, noticing the netting on the ceiling, the massive play spider web on one of the walls, and even a carved pumpkin. When she looks back to Misty, Misty’s eyes are working their way up Cordelia’s body.

 

A rush of butterflies flutter in her stomach, and when Misty finally makes eye contact and smiles with her, she’s sure that anyone walking past could see her heartbeat through the fabric of her dress.

 

“I like the earrings,” is all Misty says, and Cordelia doesn’t know when she regressed to a hormonal teenage girl, but Misty may as well have told her that she would like to bed her here and now.

 

“Oh,” Cordelia says, trying her best to feign surprise, “thank you.”

 

“Mom, look, Miss Day made Halloween!”

 

Cordelia pulls herself back into reality to step aside from the door. The familiar voice of one of her daughter’s best friends resounds through the hallway, and she looks up to see Jacquelyn, Ethan’s mother.

 

“Hi, Miss Day,” Jacquelyn says, and then smiles when she sees Cordelia, too. She has a baby in one arm and Ethan’s hand in the other. “Hey, Cordelia.”

 

“Hi, Miss Day!” Ethan echoes.

 

“Ethan, say hi to Violet’s mom,” Jacquelyn tells him.

 

“Hi, Miss Goode,” he complies politely, and Cordelia waves at him.

 

“Hi, Ethan.”

 

“Alright, go play with Violet. Have fun and be good,” Jacquelyn says. She smiles again at the two women by the doorway. “Bye, Cordelia. Bye, Miss Day!”

 

And, with that, she’s gone.

 

Cordelia suddenly feels self-conscious about how long she’s been here since dropping Violet off. She realizes that she clearly has a much less formal relationship with Violet’s teacher than Jacquelyn does. _Is that bad? Am I being completely inappropriate?_ She looks back to Misty.

 

“I should get going. I’ll see you at three?”

 

“I’ll be here,” Misty says, still smiling, and Cordelia has to actually force herself to move her feet and leave.

 

For the entire duration of the day, Cordelia is helplessly distracted.

 

_She does smile at me a lot._

 

_She’s a Kindergarten teacher; of course she smiles a lot._

 

_She always says or implies that I look nice, or that she likes the way I dress, or my hair._

 

_She’s a woman. She can admire those things without wanting to fuck me._

 

_She makes me feel like my heart is going to explode in my chest and also like I’m going to vomit._

 

_I’m not even gay. This is so ridiculous and stupid. I probably just like her as a friend._

 

_What would Coco say? She would probably tell me that I overthink everything. And she would want to set me up with a guy so that he can fuck all of this nonsense out of me._

 

_That’s probably what I should do. She’s a_ woman _. And, Christ, she’s Violet’s teacher. I don’t even like women. And I definitely cannot like Violet’s teacher._

 

_Fuck._

 

“Cordelia?”

 

The sound of Mallory’s voice comes through her office. “You have the Duke Energy client on the phone.”

 

“Thanks, Mal,” Cordelia says. _Snap out of it._ She lifts the phone to her ear and swears not to think about Misty for the rest of her work day. “This is Cordelia Goode.”

 

. . .

 

At school pick-up, Cordelia is determined to get in and out without any funny business with Miss Day. No lingering looks, no friendly conversations — simply doing what she’d come to do.

 

As always, Violet launches into her arms as soon as she sees her mother. Cordelia kisses her and tells her she loves her, and then Violet turns to wave at her teacher.

 

“Bye, Miss Day!”

  
“Bye, sugar. Have a wonderful weekend! Bye, Cordelia,” she says, and Cordelia resolves not to read anything into the way Misty says her name.

 

As she walks back down the hallway, her hand in Violet’s, Cordelia turns back for one last, ridiculous look. Misty is smiling and waving at her other students and parents, so she doesn’t see Cordelia looking.

 

_See? She does that to everyone._

 

. . .

 

“Okay, you need to tell me what’s up.”

 

Cordelia looks at Coco, sitting across from her at the high-top bar table. Her arms are folded over her chest and Cordelia knows she’s not going to be able to lie her way out of this.

 

“You have been so weird lately, and not, like, your usual weird. Talk to me, Cords.” When Cordelia doesn’t speak for a few seconds, Coco’s eyes narrow. “Are you dating someone and didn’t tell me?”

 

“No,” Cordelia says emphatically. “No.”

 

“But you like someone, and you’re not spilling.” Coco pauses. “Oh, Cordelia, tell me it’s not Hank. I don’t think I could handle—”

 

“Are you insane?” Cordelia interrupts. “No, it is not Hank. Jesus Christ.” She takes a long sip of her martini.

 

“So there is someone,” Coco says.

 

“Yes. Fine. Yes, there is. But it’s completely ridiculous and stupid. Can we talk about something else? You’ve been on three dates with that Liam guy now.”

 

“Absolutely not. No. Who is it?” When Cordelia just sighs, Coco softens her gaze. “Hey, come on. It’s me. You can tell me anything.”

 

“I know,” Cordelia nods. “It’s… It’s someone at Violet’s school.”

 

“Oh,” Coco says, sounding completely unbothered. “Wait, is it, like, a fellow parent? _Oh_ , is he married?”

 

“No, not a parent.”

 

“So…”

 

“It’s someone who works at the school,” Cordelia admits as a blush begins to creep up her neck.

 

Now, Coco looks excited. “My best friend is hot for teacher? Tell me more. Tell me it’s the principal. He could bend you over his desk and—”

 

“Stop.” Cordelia’s face is getting redder by the second. “It’s not the principal.”

 

Coco sips on her cocktail and gives Cordelia an impatient look. “Are we playing 20 Questions, babe? How long do I have to guess for?”

 

“It’s—” Cordelia swallows her words and starts again, reducing her voice to a loud whisper amid the noise of the bar. The blush fills up her face until she’s a dark shade of pink. “It’s Violet’s teacher.”

 

“I thought you said Vi’s teacher was a— _Oh, my god_. Wait. Cords, are you — I mean, are you sure?” When Cordelia nods, Coco reaches a hand over to grab her best friend’s. “Babe, that’s so exciting!”

 

“Please, don’t make this a thing. It’s not good.”

 

“How could it not be a thing? You’re interested in a woman. And I know you better than anyone and I can tell that you really like her.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cordelia says, despite her blush not subsiding. “I hardly know her.”

 

“Cords, I haven’t seen you like this since Hank.”

 

“Ugh, don’t compare them.”

 

“I’m not; we both know I thought he was trash from Day One.”

 

“Thank you for that reminder, Co.”

 

“I’m just saying that I’m happy for you. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you really interested in someone.”

 

“Well, don’t be. Happy about it, I mean. It will never happen. I feel gross just thinking about it.”

 

“Why wouldn’t it happen? Is she married?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Well, does she wear a ring?”

 

“She wears lots of rings,” Cordelia says. “It’s her style. She’s got them all over her fingers.”

 

“Sounds like you’ve been doing some staring,” Coco says, but she can see from Cordelia’s face that she’s not ready to be teased about this, so she reigns it in. “Sorry. Well, she goes by _Miss_ Day, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So, there you go. She’s probably not married. Do you know if she’s into women?”

 

“I told you; I barely know her. I don’t know anything about her. I only see her when I pick up or drop off Violet at school.”

 

“She has to have done something to get your panties in this monstrous twist. Does she flirt with you? Check you out?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t think so. It’s probably all in my head. She’s a goddamn kindergarten teacher; it’s her job to smile at and schmooze the parents so that we don’t worry she’ll kill our kids.”

 

“You’ve been out of the game for a while, I know,” Coco says, “but do not tell me you can’t see the difference between a friendly smile and an I-want-to-bend-you-over-my-desk smile.”

 

“What is it with you and getting bent over a desk?”

 

Coco shrugs. “Whatever, we’re talking about you. Think about it: what has she done that’s made you realize that you like her?”

 

“I don’t know! There are other things on my mind — my child, for example — when I’m in that classroom.” Cordelia sighs. “Can you please forget I ever even said anything?”

 

“Are you kidding? Why?”

 

“Because, Co. Even if she were into women and interested in me, which she would never be,” she ignores Coco’s open mouth and continues so as not to be interrupted, “she would never start anything with me. And nor would I. She works at a Christian school. You think the administration would be cool with an out lesbian teacher? She could lose her job, and I would never do that to her — or to Vi.”

 

Before unleashing her slew of protests to each of Cordelia’s arguments, Coco thinks on her best friend’s words and takes a long sip of her drink.

 

“That’s fair,” she finally says. “What’s meant to happen will happen, though. Do me a favor and don’t shut this out completely. Please?”

 

Cordelia’s face falls into her palms. When she looks back up at Coco, Cordelia watches as she signals to the waiter for another round.

 

“Damn,” Coco says. “You’ve got it bad, babe.”

 

“What am I supposed to do? There are still seven months left of the school year.”

 

“Are you sure it would be such a bad idea to explore this? Think about it, Cords. What if she _is_ flirting with you? What if she feels the same way?”

 

Cordelia shakes her head. “I don’t know. I think it’s better off if I just try to get over whatever this is.”

 

Coco frowns. “Well, whatever you decide, you know I’m here for you, right? For any and all of it.”

 

“I know.” Cordelia squeezes Coco’s offered hand. “Love you.”

 

Cordelia gets home just before 10, and she’s surprised to see Violet still awake, sitting at the kitchen table with Zoe.

 

“Hi, Mama,” Violet says, sipping on a glass of milk.

 

“Sorry,” Zoe says to Cordelia. “She couldn't sleep.”

 

“It’s okay,” Cordelia waves her off. “She had a few cookies after school; I’m sure it’s just the sugar.” She takes out the cash from her wallet and hands it to her sitter. “Thank you, Zoe. Have a good weekend.”

 

“Thanks, you too. Bye, Violet.” Zoe hugs and kisses the five-year-old, who also says goodbye, and then she leaves out the front door.

 

Cordelia drops her purse on the kitchen table and smiles wearily at her daughter. “It’s past your bedtime, little bird.”

 

“But it’s a Friday.”

 

“Still. Come on, let’s go to your room.”

 

Violet just frowns, so Cordelia reaches to lift her into her arms. She hugs Violet closely, appreciating the warm weight of her little body against Cordelia’s chest. Crush on her teacher or not, Cordelia knows she could never, ever do anything to jeopardize Violet’s life in any possible way.

 

“I’m not tired,” Violet says, even as Cordelia tucks her under the covers.

 

“Well, why don’t we read a book?” Cordelia picks a bedtime story off of Violet’s bookshelf and settles into bed next to her. “ _Miles of Smiles_ ,” she reads the title, but that only has Violet perking up in excitement.

 

“We talked all about smiles at school.”

 

Cordelia laughs quietly. “You did?”

 

“Uh-huh. Miss Day loves smiling. She says ‘putting a smile on your face makes the world a better place’.”

 

At the mention of Violet’s teacher, Cordelia’s stomach twists into knots and she feels the nausea rising up again. _This is your chance. Put this to rest now._

 

“Sweetheart.” Cordelia wonders if she sounds to Violet as casual as she’s trying to seem. She keeps her eyes trained on the ceiling. “Does Miss Day ever talk to, well, other mommies or daddies? At pick-up or drop-off?”

 

Violet nods. “Sometimes she does. But not every day,” Violet says. “She always smiles biggest when you come in.”

 

Cordelia’s heart leaps into her throat. “Really?”

 

She can hear the desperation in her tone, and she’d feel worse if she knew her daughter could pick up on it. So long as Violet stays blissfully unaware of Cordelia’s horrible, huge, _growing_ crush on Miss Day, Cordelia won’t feel bad about asking questions.

 

“Yep,” Violet answers her. “Miss Day likes it when you smile, too.”

 

Cordelia nearly chokes. She looks at Violet. “She — Did she say that?”

 

“Uh-huh,” the five-year-old says proudly. “She said, ‘Vi, did you know your Mama has the prettiest smile in the whole world?’ And I said yep!”

 

Cordelia pauses. “When did she say this, sweetheart?”

 

“I don’t know. Yesterday, I think.”

 

Cordelia’s mind races to remember everything about yesterday: what she’d been wearing, what Misty had been wearing, what exact time she’d dropped Violet off and picked her up. She thinks about every detail she can remember of their all-too-brief conversations.

 

Violet yawns and Cordelia is reluctantly pulled back to the present. “Let’s read your book, okay?”

 

Violet nods, snuggling close to her mother, and Cordelia starts the book. She doesn’t actually hear a single word she reads aloud to Violet, too busy thinking about everything her daughter had just said, but by the time she finishes the book, Violet is snoring.

 

Carefully, Cordelia crawls out of the bed and makes sure that Violet is tucked in. She presses a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, baby girl. Goodnight,” she whispers, and walks quietly out of the room.

 

When she’s back in her own bedroom, Cordelia goes through her nightly routine and finally gets comfortable in her own bed. Without any hesitation, she reaches into the back of her nightstand drawer and pulls out her vibrator.

 

She moves her hand, vibrator in tow, down the plane of her stomach until she’s dipping beneath her underwear. As she slides her fingers through a slick coat of wetness, she tries not to feel guilty for what she knows she’s about to do.

 

She turns the vibrator on, hearing the quiet buzzing hum, and presses it to her center. Behind closed eyes, she pictures Misty’s fingers toying between her legs. She sees her blue, mischievous eyes, sparkling with the satisfaction of having Cordelia in this position.

 

Cordelia stifles a moan with her free hand and begins gyrating her hips into the vibrator’s sensation. She feels an orgasm coming on quickly, thoughts of Misty’s fingers inside her too much for her to keep composure. When Cordelia moves the vibrator to her clit, her back arches off the bed and her eyes squeeze shut.

 

“Ah, _Misty_!”


	6. Clinging To a Cloud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Misty by Johnny Mathis.

“Knock, knock.”

 

Marie appears in the doorway of Cordelia’s office, and Cordelia looks up and smiles. “Come in.”

 

The older woman makes herself comfortable in one of the armchairs across from her colleague. “I just wanted to check in and see how things are going. I know I’ve been out a lot for the Goldman case, so we haven’t caught up.”

 

“Everything is going well,” Cordelia answers honestly. “We’ve won most of our evidence submissions, and Sasha, Julia, and Megan have been extremely helpful. I wouldn’t have been able to get this far without them.”

 

Marie nods succinctly. “That’s good. They think of you like their queen. I see it in the way they look at you.”

 

Cordelia shakes her head. “They don’t.”

 

“They do,” Marie insists. “They look up to you. It’s a good thing; you’re their boss, Cordelia.”

 

Cordelia isn’t sure what to say to that, so she offers a small smile and shrug. Marie eyes the framed photograph on Cordelia’s desk and turns it slightly to get a better view. “And what about this little angel? How’s she liking Kindergarten?”

 

“She loves it. She’s made friends, and her teacher is amazing.” _And I have it so bad for her, I’m surprised it’s not written all over my stupid face._

 

“I always knew she’d do well. She’s smart and kind, that one — just like her Mama.”

 

“Thank you, Marie.”

 

“You still thinking about asking for full custody?”

 

Cordelia nods. “I submitted the request this morning, actually. I know it will take a few months, so I’ll have time to make sure I’m completely buttoned up for it.”

 

“You’ll be fine,” Marie says. “Hank’s got nothing on you.”

 

“That’s what I’m counting on.” She smiles. “What about you? Catch me up on the Goldman case.”

 

The two women talk for another fifteen minutes or so, keeping the conversation mostly about their firm but occasionally wading into private matters. Cordelia doesn’t dare mention anything more on Misty, just offers updates on Fiona and Violet.

 

When Marie leaves her office, Cordelia sets a gentle hand on her computer’s mouse to scroll through any new emails. One, in particular, catches her eye. Her heart rate begins to escalate as she opens it.

 

 

**From: Misty Day** (misty.day@stmartinsepiscopal.org)

**To: Kinder 2019 Class A**

**Subject: Parent-Teacher Conference Scheduling**

 

Hi Parents,

 

It’s that time of the year!

 

I will be scheduling times with each of you to share and discuss anything regarding your child’s time in Kindergarten thus far. To find a time that works best for you, please fill out the survey by clicking the link below.

 

The survey will also contain a place to write anything in particular that you’d like to address during our time together. Conferences only last 30 minutes, so your thoughts and feedback prior to the meeting will help ensure that our time is productive.

 

Overall, it has been a wonderful start to the school year for Miss Day’s Frogs. I am looking forward to speaking with you about how we can improve even more.

 

PTC 2019 Survey

 

Warmly,

Misty Day

 

 

Cordelia re-reads the email another three times before finally relaxing back into her chair. Half an hour with her and Misty — and… Hank.

 

She considers the possibility of simply not telling him. Hank has little to no footing in the situation, being that he’s not on the email listserv and he doesn’t contribute a dime towards Violet’s schooling. That being said, he does have partial legal custody, giving him a technical say in her education. The last thing she needs is for him to tell the judge that he can’t partake in things because Cordelia purposely doesn’t inform him about them.

 

Cordelia clicks on the link Misty had sent to see the dates she’s offering. They’re spread out among the evenings of the last week in October, just a week-and-a-half away. A quick glance at the calendar tells her that Hank has Violet the weekend before. She can tell him then and, with minimal notice, he may have no choice but to sit it out.

 

She sets a reminder in her phone to tell him that day, not feeling the slightest pang of guilt for it. She wants that time to herself with Misty. She needs it.

 

. . .

 

“I mean it, Hank. If I so much as smell Febreeze on her clothes—”

 

“I said I wouldn’t smoke, Cordelia. What do you want me to do, sign a contract?”

 

Cordelia rolls her eyes. “No cigarettes. And would it kill you to feed her something healthy? I don’t want her asking me for Pop Tarts. She’s five years old; she needs to be eating nutritious foods.”

 

“I ate hot dogs and Eggos my entire childhood and I turned out just fine,” is Hank’s closing argument before he turns around to face his truck. “We’re leaving now, President Goode.”

 

Cordelia follows him to the car and opens the door in the backseat nearest to where Violet is sitting. “I love you. Have a good time. Call me tonight on Daddy’s phone, okay?”

 

“I will.”

 

“Okay. I love you so much.”

 

“I love you, too, Mommy.”

 

“We’ll talk to you later,” Hank says, so Cordelia blows another kiss to Violet and closes the door. It isn’t until the truck pulls out of the parking lot that Cordelia realizes she forgot to tell him about the parent-teacher conference that she’d scheduled for Tuesday night.

 

When the weekend is through and Hank brings her back home on time, Cordelia decides she has no choice but to tell her ex-husband about the meeting.

 

After hugging and kissing Violet and sending her inside, Cordelia folds her arms against her chest and makes eye contact with Hank.

 

“They’re scheduling parent-teacher conferences this week,” she says, but Hank has no reaction.

 

“Are those during the day?”

 

“No,” Cordelia says slowly. She tries to focus on not talking to him like an idiot, given that she already feels slightly bad that she’s giving him hardly 48 hours notice. “They’re not during the day because the kids aren’t there. It’s just the parent and teacher. They’re at night,” she adds.

 

Hank sighs. “I guess I could drop a shift at the bar. I don’t know, though.”

 

“Don’t worry about it; I just wanted to let you know,” Cordelia says. “I’ll go and let you know if there’s anything of note concerning Violet.”

 

Hank tilts his head as he looks at his ex-wife. “What’s the matter? You’re not pissed that I’m not going? You’re always pissed when I don’t make it to stuff. You’ve reminded me a hundred times for two years now that I missed that ballet recital—”

 

“I care about your absence when it affects Violet,” Cordelia says. “If she’s expecting you to be somewhere and you don’t show, I have a problem with that. She’ll be home asleep when I’m at this meeting; she won’t know the difference.”

 

Hank nods. “Okay. Good, then.”

 

“Good,” Cordelia agrees, and she thinks it might be the first thing they’ve seen eye to eye on in five years.

 

. . .

 

It takes an uncharacteristic two hours for Cordelia to get ready for her meeting with Misty on Tuesday evening. She had asked Zoe over earlier than usual simply so that she could help with feeding and bathing Violet while Cordelia showered and tried on half of her closet.

 

When she finally decides on an outfit, a black skirt and her favorite Isabel Marant silk blouse, she curls her hair and selects her jewelry and shoes. She goes down the stairs of the townhome and sees Zoe and Violet at the kitchen table, so she thanks Zoe and kisses her daughter goodbye.

 

By the time she’s approaching the Lower School area, Cordelia is buzzing with nervous energy. She’s never spent this much time with Misty free from any interruptions, and just the idea of getting to talk to her for half an hour is thrilling.

 

She arrives just as Eric and Connie Hall, the parents of one of Violet’s classmates, are leaving Misty’s classroom. She exchanges quick pleasantries with the couple that she’d become friends with, and then looks inside the room.

 

Misty is standing, leaning over her desk as she looks through her binder of files. She’s wearing a teal maxi dress that’s more formal than what she normally wears for daily classes, but her hair still falls in the same loose, natural waves.

 

Cordelia swallows hard at the sight of it and knocks on the frame of Misty’s open door.

 

Misty looks up, pushing stray curls behind her ear, and grins.

 

“Hi. Come in.” She looks just past Cordelia, as if to see if there’s anyone behind her. “Is Mr. Foxx joining us tonight?”

 

“No,” Cordelia says, almost too quickly. “No, it’s just me.” She blushes. “Should I close the door?”

 

“Please do,” Misty says.

 

Cordelia moves to do so, and then walks over to the desk. On the other side of where Misty is standing, there are two arm chairs, clearly ones Misty had brought in so that her students’ parents wouldn’t have to sit in child-size seats for half an hour.

 

Cordelia makes herself comfortable in one and watches as Misty moves the large binder of files to a desk drawer. The action makes Misty’s biceps flex, defining them even more than usual. Involuntarily, Cordelia wonders how those arms would feel wrapped around her body, or hooked around her thighs.

 

“I like the flowers,” Cordelia says, eyeing the vase of pipe cleaner flowers on the desk.

 

Misty smiles, clearly proud. “Each of the kids made one for it,” she explains. “That’s always the cutest craft to do with them. Though, Violet mentioned that we may need to make you a new bouquet.”

 

“She said that?” Cordelia asks, struck by her daughter’s thoughtfulness. “My mother came into town, somewhat unexpectedly, the day Violet made the flowers. She wanted something to give to her grandmother, so we agreed that it should be the violets. I loved them while they were mine, though,” she adds.

 

Misty takes in the anecdote. “That’s actually a good segway into my first note about Violet,” she says, and Cordelia nods. “I saw that, when you filled out the survey, you didn’t note anything specifically that you wanted to discuss—”

 

“Is that bad?”

 

“No,” Misty says reassuringly. “No, not at all. I guess I already kind of spilled the beans that she’s my favorite.”

  
Cordelia’s smile grows into a laugh. “You did.”

 

“She’s kind and generous, which you obviously see every day. She shares well with others, never leaves anyone out on the playground, and always offers to lend a helping hand. She’s a doll. She clearly takes after her mother.”

 

Cordelia feels her heart ache with the tenderness of the comment. “Thank you,” she says humbly.

 

Misty nods before continuing. “She is also an excellent student. As you know, she’s incredibly bright.” Cordelia can tell that Misty has more to say, so she looks at the other woman curiously. Misty pauses. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

 

Cordelia’s mind races with the possibilities. “Of course.”

 

“Do you… celebrate your successes with Violet? Personal or professional — when you do something well, does she see you take credit for it?”

 

Cordelia swallows and rolls her shoulders back in nervous tension.

 

“I don’t know. I guess not,” she answers honestly. “But we always celebrate Violet’s successes. She knows when she does well. We’ll go get ice cream, or a toy she’s been wanting,” Cordelia explains, still feeling on edge.

 

“Of course,” Misty says. “I ask only because, sometimes, I see that Violet almost has a hesitation to be the one with the right answer. She’s smart, and she understands things quickly, but I can see her doubting herself — almost like she’s too modest to say it. Like she’s holding herself back a little bit, maybe to let some of her classmates shine.”

 

Cordelia nods, taking in the other woman’s words. “That’s my fault,” she says after a few long moments. She offers a smile that Misty can tell is self-deprecating. “It’s probably hereditary.”

 

Misty shakes her head. “It’s nothing that we can’t curb. I just wanted to mention it. It might be good for her to see the woman she clearly looks up to more than anyone taking pride in her wins. And I hope I’m not overstepping any boundaries by saying that.”

 

“No,” Cordelia says. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

 

She’s not sure what else to say. Were parent-teacher conferences this easy? She supposes they might be, with kids as good as Violet. Cordelia doesn’t want her time to be over just yet, but she also doesn’t to embarrass herself by staying just to chat with Misty. She knows that she has a life outside of being a teacher, and that surely her idea of a good time is not sitting in her classroom all night. She just wants to ask one question, and she swears to herself to leave after she does.

 

“So, then, can I ask _you_ a personal question?”

 

Misty shrugs and settles back into her chair. “Fair is fair.”

 

“How did you come to be so sure of yourself?”

 

Misty folds her arms over her chest. Her eyes narrow, mockingly suspicious. “And how do you know that I am?”

 

“I practice Law,” Cordelia reminds her. “I read people for a living. It’s just an energy you give off.”

 

Misty laughs, her expression relaxing easily. “Alright, then.” She thinks for a few seconds, Cordelia watching the wheels in her mind turn. “I guess I was really all that I had. My parents were super religious, and I was their only daughter.” Misty pauses, as if she’s trying to decide whether or not to add more. Cordelia desperately hopes she will, and she momentarily forgets her glass face, because Misty get a glint in her eye and opens her mouth again.

 

“I knew I was different from the time I was nine,” she says. “I liked girls, and my friends didn’t.”

 

Cordelia’s stomach turns over, but she makes an extremely concentrated effort not to alter her facial expression.

 

“I knew it wouldn’t do me any favors, especially when it came to the community I’d grown up in. But I had no choice but to be myself. I made my own way, made my own friends, and found my place in a job I loved. I guess I kind of got into the mindset of thinking that if I wasn’t living to make myself happy, what the hell was I doing?”

 

For someone who’s just shared something so personal, Cordelia thinks Misty hardly looks affected. She can tell that it’s not that Misty doesn’t see it a big deal to have opened up the way that she did, but rather that she trusts Cordelia in a way that Cordelia’s sure she doesn’t deserve.

 

“It’s very admirable,” Cordelia says, eyes still searching Misty’s. “I’m glad that Violet has that example in her life every day.”

 

“Thank you, Cordelia.”

 

Cordelia smiles sheepishly. “I’m guessing this probably isn’t your typical parent-teacher conference.”

 

“No, it’s not,” Misty laughs.

 

“So, is that it?”

 

Misty sets both palms down on her desk. “That’s it. Pretty harmless, huh?”

 

“An understatement,” Cordelia agrees. “I really appreciate your time.”

 

“It’s my pleasure,” Misty tells her.

 

Cordelia bends to pick up her Chanel bag and rises from the chair, so Misty gets up, too. She starts the brief walk to the door, stopping only at the sound of Misty’s voice.

 

“Cordelia?”

 

Cordelia’s skin prickles with goosebumps. She turns around to see Misty barely a foot away from her.

 

“Would you like to get dinner with me?” Misty asks.

 

Cordelia just stares at her, desperate for Misty to confirm what she thinks her daughter’s teacher had just said.

 

“Dinner?” She says dumbly.

 

Misty seems completely unfazed. She smiles. “Yeah. I was hoping I might be able to take you out. On a date,” she specifies.

 

When Cordelia doesn’t answer, Misty continues.

 

“I completely understand if you don’t think it’s appropriate. And, if this makes you in any way uncomfortable, please tell me. But you’re just so damn pretty and you make me laugh and I’d like to see you outside of the walls of this classroom.”

 

Cordelia blinks, heart racing in her chest. “I would love to go to dinner with you.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yes,” Cordelia says, sure that it’s the easiest thing she’s ever agreed to in her life.

 

“Okay. Friday?”

 

The explosion of fireworks currently happening in Cordelia’s brain prevents her from being able to actually register the question for several seconds.

 

“Friday is great.”

 

Misty grins. “Awesome.” She swings her arms back and forth until she clasps her hands together in the most nervous movement that Cordelia’s seen from her all night. Cordelia wonders what the consequences would be if she threw herself into those arms right here in her classroom. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow at drop-off, then?”

 

Cordelia nods, the fluttering in her stomach still making her vision staticky. “Yes,” she says. A small smile blossoms on her face. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”


	7. I’m in the Market For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from I’m in the Market For You by Archie Semple. The song is featured within the chapter, too :)

“Where is she taking you?”

 

“I don’t know. What about this one?”

 

Coco tilts her head in thought. “Cute, but the last one was more date-y.”

 

Cordelia nods and retreats to her walk-in closet to take off the dress and put it back on its proper hanger. “What’s Violet doing, by the way?”

 

“Vi’s fine,” Coco says. She’s laying on her stomach on her best friend’s bed, her fist propping her head up. “I told her she could watch Paw Patrol for an hour and she basically jumped me. You really need to let that kid watch more TV.”

 

Cordelia shakes her head and grabs the next thing to try on.

 

“So you have no idea what you guys are doing?” Coco asks.

 

“She said dinner,” Cordelia says, sliding the dress over her body.

 

“I wonder where. I can’t believe she’s picking you up instead of having you guys meet there. It’s so traditional and romantic.”

 

Cordelia returns to the bedroom and turns around so that her back faces Coco. “Zip me up?”

 

Coco obliges, so Cordelia turns around and offers a look at the black number that hugs her body at every curve. The sleeves are off her shoulders, allowing for a portrait neckline that shows off her neck and the top of her chest.

 

Coco lets out a series of whoops and dog whistles, making Cordelia roll her eyes.

 

“Cords, that is _hot_ ,” she finally says. “Where the hell have you been hiding that? If I’d known that was in there, I would have stolen it a long time ago.”

 

“I just haven’t ever had anything that it’s worth wearing to.”

 

“Well, it’s incredibly sexy, and it looks amazing on you.”

 

“Is it too much?” Cordelia moves to look in the mirror, turning on her heel for views of the side and back of the dress. “She is still Violet’s teacher, after all.”

 

“No, not tonight, she’s not,” Coco argues. “This is not a parent-teacher conference, Part Two. This is a date. And _that_ is a date dress.”

 

Cordelia stares at herself in the mirror, still unsure, so Coco changes positions to sit up on the bed. “Cords, wear it. It’s hot. It hardly shows cleavage; it’s not too much. And, if you don’t keep it on, I’m going to super-glue it to your body.”

 

Cordelia laughs and, shifting to get one more look from the side, finally nods her assent. “Okay. Okay, this is the one.”

 

“Yay!” Coco cries, and rises to go into Cordelia’s closet. “Now, let’s do shoes.”

 

When her ensemble is complete, Cordelia and Coco retreat back downstairs. Violet is still happily watching her TV show, and hardly notices as the two women begin quietly talking in the kitchen.

 

“She’s picking you up at 8, right?”

 

“Yes. Ten minutes.” Cordelia pauses. “I think I’m going to vomit.”

 

“No, you’re not. You already brushed your teeth.” Coco grabs onto both of Cordelia’s arms, receiving her full attention. “Relax. It’s going to be great. And, if it’s not great, I, personally, will drop off and pick up Violet from school every day for the rest of the school year so that you don’t have to see her again.”

 

“No, you won’t,” Cordelia deadpans.

 

“You’re right, I won’t. But that doesn’t matter, because everything is going to go so well.”

 

Cordelia’s phone vibrates and she looks at it to see a text from Misty.

 

 

_Misty Day, 7:54pm_

I’m outside whenever you’re ready :)

 

 

“Is she here?”

 

“She’s here,” Cordelia nods, and slips her phone into her clutch.

 

“I guess she can’t come to the door?” Coco muses, and Cordelia glares.

 

“No, she cannot.”

 

“Fine. I want every detail when you get back here.”

 

“Who else am I going to tell?” Cordelia says. “Thanks again for watching Vi.”

 

“You got it, babe.”

 

Cordelia walks over to the living room to hug and kiss Violet goodbye, and Violet’s eyes go wide at the sight of her mother so dressed up. Cordelia lifts her into her arms to hug her, but Violet pulls back, wanting to get another look.  
  
“Mama, you look so pretty!”

 

“Thank you, baby.”

 

“Where are you going?” Violet asks.

 

“I’m going out with a friend.”

 

“Not Auntie Coco?”

 

“No, a different friend. I’ll see you when you wake up in the morning, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Be good for Auntie Coco. I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

After one more kiss, Cordelia sets Violet back down to watch her show. She grabs her clutch off of the table and gives Coco an eye indicating that she’s leaving.

 

“Good luck,” Coco mouths, and Cordelia smiles thankfully. As she walks into the entry hallway, she hears her best friend asking Violet if she wants to make chocolate-chip cookies. While Violet cheers, Cordelia opens and closes the front door behind her.

 

She sees Misty’s Jeep outside and the fluttering feeling returns to her stomach as she walks towards it. She doesn’t know why it surprises her when Misty gets out of the car and rounds the car to meet her at the passenger’s side, but it’s worth it to see the look on Misty’s face when she sees Cordelia in her dress.

 

“Hi,” Misty says. “You look incredible.”

 

“Thank you,” Cordelia says, and takes a long look at Misty, too. She’s wearing a black, floral jumpsuit that flatters her tall and slim body. “So do you.”

 

Misty opens the passenger door and offers her hand to help Cordelia in. “Shall we?”

 

They make small talk on the way there, mostly about how their work weeks had gone and other menial subjects. Cordelia is thankful that Misty doesn’t seem nervous — at least, certainly not as nervous as Cordelia herself is — because each time Misty laughs or makes a lighthearted joke, another knot in Cordelia’s stomach untwists itself.

 

When they pull into the parking lot of the restaurant that Cordelia doesn’t recognize, they meet outside of the car and Cordelia refrains from reaching for Misty’s hand. Misty seems to silently agree to the same, not wanting to put Cordelia in an awkward position on the slim chance that she knows anyone in the restaurant.

 

They make their way to the host stand, and Cordelia watches as Misty speaks to the host. Within a minute, they’re being led to the back of the tiny place and out to a private, covered outdoor patio area.

 

There’s room for a few tables, but only one with two chairs is set. A candle is lit in the middle and, above them, strings of twinkling lights do well to set the mood lighting.

 

Cordelia gives Misty a look of awe as the host helps them to get seated in their chairs and offers them menus, and the man is gone as soon as they’re settled. Cordelia hears the soft, instrumental jazz music coming from the main portion of the restaurant, and she looks across from her at her date.

 

“You reserved this?”

 

She doesn’t mean for it to come out as emotional as it does, but her voice isn’t strong and she’s still in disbelief.

 

“I did,” Misty says. She sets her hand on the table, palm facing upwards. Cordelia stares at it for a moment before reaching across to hold Misty’s hand. “I picked this place because it’s a little off the beaten path, but I just wanted to make sure that you know I take your privacy seriously. I’d never do anything to jeopardize that.”

 

“Thank you. Thank you, Misty. This is perfect. It’s beautiful.” _You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met._

 

The waiter comes over to pour their water and ask if they’d like anything to drink. Misty is holding the wine list, so she raises her eyebrows at Cordelia, who nods. Misty orders what Cordelia knows to be a good bottle of red, and the waiter disappears again.

 

“So, tell me about you,” Misty says, eyes twinkling. “I want to know everything. Where did you grow up?”

 

“Los Angeles. My mother is from there.”

 

Cordelia tells her briefly about her childhood and Fiona, trying to not make her upbringing sound like a sob story while still being honest about Fiona’s absence; it is, after all, a defining factor in what made Cordelia want to be so overly present for Violet. She tells her about majoring in English and Pre-Law at USC, where she met and lived with Coco for four years before both of them decided to move to New Orleans together upon Cordelia’s acceptance to Tulane Law.

 

Cordelia thinks on her time at law school and falls quiet for a few moments. She reaches for her wine glass and watches across from her as Misty tilts her head. Cordelia gets the odd sensation that Misty is reading her mind when she all but proves that she had.

 

“Is that where you met Hank?”

 

Cordelia’s mouth opens and then closes. “Yes,” she nods. “Yes. We met at Tulane. He wasn’t a student there, but his father owned a construction firm that—” She stops, feeling her face blushing red. “You don’t want to hear about this.”

 

“No, I do,” Misty says. “It’s a part of you — of who you are. Of course I want to hear about it.”

 

“We’ve only been talking about me,” Cordelia protests. “Tell me about you. I want to know more.”

 

Her pleading smile is clearly enough to convince Misty, who thanks the waiter for refilling both of their glasses from the bottle of wine. He quickly takes their orders and leaves the women be, so Misty begins her own story. She repeats briefly what she’d told Cordelia about her religious upbringing, weaving in details about her parents’ zealous antics and her aversion to the cult-like environment.

 

“When did you know—” Cordelia starts, her eyebrows knitting together. “I mean, I remember you said you were nine, but how…” She trails off, but Misty just smiles.

 

“Well, I did know then, but I sure as hell didn’t do anything about it for a little while. I was terrified,” she says honestly. “And then I got to high school, and, you know, people start experimenting with different things—” Misty stops to notice Cordelia’s blank stare.

 

“I was not cool enough in high school to experiment with anything,” Cordelia explains, and Misty grins.

 

“Somehow, I can take you for your word on that.”

 

“Hey,” Cordelia says, feigning offense.

 

“It’s not a bad thing,” Misty says, even though she knows Cordelia isn’t really offended. “High School Cordelia probably had straight A’s, and was captain of the Speech and Debate team, and president of the National Honor Society—”

 

“Vice President,” Cordelia interrupts. “They chose Bobby Park over me for President.”

 

Misty bursts into laughter and Cordelia grins, delighted.

 

“Yeah, I totally would have had a crush on you in high school,” Misty tells her. “I liked the good girls.” Her accent has become slightly more pronounced after a bit of wine, and Cordelia finds it endearingly attractive.

 

“Is that who you _experimented_ with?” Cordelia asks cheekily.

 

“It is,” Misty answers. “We, of course, never said anything about it publicly. It was only behind closed doors and all that. But I knew what I wanted, and I was pretty damn sure that I wasn’t the only one. After high school graduation, I just decided that I didn’t want to live a secret life. I told my parents and my friends. My pastor found out, and tried to convince me to go to some camp—” She pauses, seeing Cordelia’s wide eyes. “Yeah. It wasn’t the best time,” she admits. “But it got better. I went to college and found my tribe. I knew I wanted to be a teacher, just to give my future students the safe and loving place to be themselves that I never really had.”

 

Cordelia feels a question on the tip of her tongue, one that she’s not entirely sure is appropriate to ask. Misty sees the worrying lines on Cordelia’s forehead and takes her best guess.

 

“The school knows,” Misty says, and Cordelia lets out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. If there were ever a world in which she and Misty could be together publicly, she would never want to be the reason that Misty loses her job. “Headmistress Snow at St. Martin’s was extremely welcoming. Said she didn’t care one way or another, and any parent who did could burn.”

 

“She said that?”

 

“Mhmm,” Misty nods. “I was surprised, too, but it’s the main reason I took the job at the school after college. It’s my ninth year there, and I really do think it’s the best.”

 

The waiter comes out to bring the food and top off their wine glasses, but Misty only allows a few minutes of small talk over their dinner before getting back to the subject that her date had dodged.

 

“Tell me about Tulane,” she says.

 

Cordelia licks her lips and nods at Misty, knowing that the conversation would arise again. She starts by talking about why she’d picked it, telling Misty about Marie and how eventually they’d started Laveau & Goode together.

 

“I met Hank because he was working on campus,” she finally says. “He’d just graduated college, too, and he took a job at his father’s construction company, overseeing the building of a new wing in the Law library. We were so different, but he was charming, and I’d never really dated much before. One thing led to another, and he proposed, and we were married.”

 

Cordelia takes a sip of her wine. “My mother hated him. Like, really hated him. But, she hadn’t paid much attention to me before, and I never actually believed she had my best interest in mind — so I ignored it.”

 

“Why didn’t she like him?” Misty asks.

 

“She always just said he wasn’t good enough — wasn’t smart enough, or ambitious enough. She told me that he reeked of bullshit, which, she was right; I was just too naive to see it at the time.” Misty frowns, whether in reaction to Fiona’s treatment of Cordelia or what she presumes Fiona had been right about, Cordelia doesn’t know.

 

“We fought a lot. He was irresponsible with money, and, when I complained, he accused me of being secretly mad that I made more than him. When I got pregnant with Violet, we tried to see it as a fresh start. Or, at least, that’s what we’d agreed to. But I knew he was cheating on me — _still_ cheating on me,” she corrects sheepishly, “and I couldn’t do it anymore. Violet was just a baby, but I wanted her to be proud of me. I wanted to be able to tell her, one day, that I didn’t stand to be treated that way. So, I called Coco, and she helped me pack up all of Hank’s things into boxes, and we left them on the porch. I filed for divorce the next day.”

 

“Cordelia, I am so sorry,” Misty says, so Cordelia shakes her head. “I mean, I know you’re clearly strong and made an amazing life for yourself and Violet, but no one should have to be treated that way. Ever.”

 

“Thank you.” Cordelia smiles. “ _Now_ , we can talk about something else.”

 

Misty’s face matches her date’s. “Agreed.” She sets one elbow on the table, using her hand to cradle her face so that she can stare at Cordelia.

 

“Tell me about your rings.”

 

Misty moves her hand to wiggle her fingers. “You like ‘em?”

 

“I do,” Cordelia giggles.

 

They fall back into easy conversation, giddy from the wine and each other’s company. When a certain jazz song filters in through the restaurant, a content smile appears on Misty’s face. “Oh,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “I love this song.”

 

Her eye close for a few moments, only opening to look at Cordelia. “Dance with me?” Misty asks.

 

Cordelia only hesitates for a second before nodding. While she’s taking her napkin out of her lap, Misty rises and walks to Cordelia’s side of the table. She helps to pull her chair out and then, taking both of Cordelia’s hands in hers, gently tugs her to be standing.

 

It’s been years since Cordelia has danced romantically with anyone, but Misty ensures that there’s little thinking involved on Cordelia’s part. She places one of Cordelia’s arms around her neck, and then takes her free hand into her own. Misty’s other arm wraps around Cordelia’s waist, pulling them closely together, until Misty’s hand settles on the small of her back.

 

As Misty starts to sway, Cordelia’s cheek finds its home resting on Misty’s shoulder. It’s not lost on either of them that the motion fills up the last of the space that had been between their chests.

 

“Your heart is beating so fast, darling,” Misty says quietly. Cordelia just nuzzles her face further into Misty’s neck, so Misty holds her a little tighter and doesn’t comment on it again.

 

After a few minutes, when the song is slowing to allow for a soft, romantic piano melody, Misty breaks the silence between them again.

 

“Cordelia?”

 

Cordelia lifts her head from Misty’s shoulder, and brown eyes meet blue in the close proximity.

 

“Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

 

Cordelia swallows. “I wish you would.”

 

Carefully, Misty takes her hand out of Cordelia’s and moves it to palm Cordelia’s face. Misty’s eyes flicker to Cordelia’s mouth, where her tongue quickly moves to wet her lips. She moves slowly, so slowly, to press her soft lips against Cordelia’s, closing her eyes once they meet.  

 

Cordelia lets out a tiny, almost inaudible whimper at the contact before moving her lips to kiss Misty back. They move together, Misty opening her mouth just enough to pull Cordelia’s bottom lip between hers again and again.

 

When she finally ends the kiss, her eyes scan Cordelia’s face for any sign of hesitation, finding none. Cordelia’s free arm finds its way behind Misty’s neck, and Misty slides her hand down to hold the other side of Cordelia’s back. They sway for a few moments, their foreheads touching as Cordelia alternates between closing her eyes to enjoy the moment and opening them to look into Misty’s.

 

“I hope it’s okay that I really like you,” Misty says, voice barely above a whisper.

 

Cordelia can hear her heartbeat in her eardrums.

 

“Misty?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Kiss me again.”

 

And Misty does.

 

. . .

 

Cordelia is still smiling uncontrollably when she pulls her house key out of her clutch to unlock the front door. She turns around to wave goodbye again to Misty, who had been waiting from the car to make sure Cordelia made it inside. Misty grins and, after waving back, drives away and out of sight of the house.

 

Cordelia steps inside and quickly closes the door behind her, locking it and setting the alarm. She walks slowly, trying to make sure her heels don’t clank too loudly against the wood floor, until she finally gives up and peels them off her feet.

 

She finds Coco on the couch, a glass of wine in one hand as she watches what Cordelia vaguely recognizes as one of _The Real Housewives_ shows. Coco mutes the TV and turns around to see Cordelia, lipstick completely gone, grinning like a maniac, and lips swollen in a dark red hue.

 

“I was wondering when you were going to come in,” Coco says, shaking her head. “She parked out there, like, ten minutes ago.”

 

Cordelia giggles quietly and walks over to flop down next to her best friend on the couch. “We made out in the car for a while,” she says, looking absolutely like a teenager in the middle of a lust storm and smelling like some combination of sandalwood and her own Chanel No. 5.

 

“I can see that,” Coco laughs, reaching out a finger to tease Cordelia’s bruised lips. Cordelia swats her hand away good-naturedly. “So…”

 

Cordelia just grins, and Coco rolls her eyes. “Come on! Tell me everything! It _clearly_ went well.”

 

“Really well,” Cordelia agrees. She starts from the moment Misty picked her up, and how she’d gotten out of the car to open the door for Cordelia.

 

As she recounts the details of the night, she realizes that she has no idea what will happen next or how she and Misty will make any of this work. She only knows that she likes Misty more than she’s ever liked anyone in her entire life.

 

And, for now, that’s enough.


	8. Loving is Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Loving is Easy by Rex Orange County.

For the rest of the weekend, Cordelia is on cloud nine. She and Misty exchange several texts over the course of Saturday and Sunday, and she can’t wait to see her again on Monday morning for school drop-off.

 

Even in the crisp Fall air, Cordelia finds her palm sweating in Violet’s hand as they walk to the Lower School campus. When they arrive at the doorway of Violet’s classroom, one of her schoolmates is bidding her father goodbye. Cordelia waves hello to the man and, as he walks away, she turns to see Misty walking back towards the door.

 

“Hi, Vi!”

 

“Hi, Miss Day!” Violet says before looking back at Cordelia. “Bye, Mama.”

 

“Bye, baby.” Cordelia hugs and kisses her five-year-old. “Have a good day. I love you,” she says, a familiar refrain by now. When she stands back up to her full height while Violet skips into her classroom, Misty is still in the same spot.

 

“Hi,” Misty says. She’s smiling at Cordelia, but it’s more of a knowing smile than her usual, friendly one.

 

Cordelia is trying not to let her nervous excitement about seeing Misty show too much on her face, but as she looks at the woman in front of her, she can’t believe how much she likes her. “Hi.”

 

“What are you doing Thursday night?” Misty asks, clearly knowing they may not have privacy for much longer.

 

Cordelia racks her brain, but nothing stands out. Realistically, she knows that it wouldn’t matter what she had Thursday, if she had anything to begin with, because she’d move it for Misty. She is not in the business of playing hard to get. Not after five years of being single, and certainly not after fifteen minutes of having Misty’s mouth all over hers on Friday night.

 

“Nothing I can think of,” Cordelia answers.

 

“Good. Is 7 too early to pick you up?”

 

They’re briefly distracted by Violet’s friend, Ethan, getting dropped off. The little boy walks into the classroom as his mother, Jacquelyn, waves at Misty and Cordelia from across the hall, and the two women wave back.

 

“7 is great,” Cordelia says.

 

“Perfect.”

 

After school drop-off, Cordelia’s day goes significantly downhill. When she gets to work, she learns that the defendant in the Duke Energy case, a large manufacturer that had been selling fraudulent clean energy products to consumers, has hired a notoriously sleazy yet successful attorney. By noon, Mallory prints out and takes to Cordelia’s desk a variety of slanderous articles that the lawyer had planted about her client.

 

Much as Cordelia wants to get Violet from school herself — and get to see Misty in the process — she knows she won’t make it out of work until late that night. She arranges with Zoe to pick up Violet and stay with her until Cordelia is home.

 

Tuesday is similarly long and miserable, but, by mid-afternoon, she has finally corrected the stories and has her support team drafting a new clause in their case to ensure that they also sue for slander. She has Zoe pick up Violet for the second day in a row and, at nine o’clock at night, gets a call from on her office phone from Marie.

 

“Still at the office?” Marie asks.

 

“Leaving soon,” Cordelia promises. “I just want to know that all of this is settled so that I can actually sleep tonight.”

 

“Don’t come in tomorrow, Cordelia. Anything you need to do, you can do from home. Spend time with your baby girl. Get some rest.”

 

“Marie—”

 

“No arguing. You did this for me when I was working myself to death on the Goldman case, and now I’m doing the same for you. Take tomorrow off.”

 

Cordelia wants to argue that she shouldn’t get special treatment just because she’s a Partner, but she’s hardly seen Violet since Sunday and she’s admittedly exhausted. “Okay,” she agrees. “Thanks, Marie. I’ll see you Thursday.”

 

“Good. See you then.”

 

On her drive home, Cordelia calls Coco to hear how her Sunday night date with Will, a dermatologist she’d met on a dating app, went. Coco talks all about how nice, funny, and charming he’d been and how they have another date for Friday night.

 

“I’m so happy for you, Co,” Cordelia says.

 

  
“I’m happy for me, too. He’s so smart; you’d really like him, Cords.”

 

“And you’re sure you don’t mind that he has a son?” Cordelia asks. “You know more than anyone that kids take up a lot of someone’s time.”

 

“I really don’t,” Coco says. “I haven’t met him, but he sounds so sweet. He’s around Violet’s age, you know. Maybe they could be friends someday.”

 

“That would be convenient,” Cordelia agrees.

 

“Now you: how’s it been this week with Misty?”

 

“I’ve barely seen her,” Cordelia admits. “I’ve worked super late the last two nights and didn’t get to pick up Violet from school.”

 

“Ugh, I’m sorry, babe,” Coco says. “Will tomorrow be bad, too?”

 

“No, Marie convinced me to stay home.”

 

“Oh! That was sweet. So, then, you have nothing to do tomorrow?”

 

“Other than take and pick up Violet, nope.”

 

Coco pauses before speaking again. “Why don’t you let me take Violet to school tomorrow? You should stay home and sleep longer.”

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Cordelia says. “I’ll take her.”

 

“No, I want to. I’ll come by in the morning and pick her up.”

 

Cordelia furrows her eyebrows, but gets an idea a few seconds later. “Why do you want to take her to school, Co?” She asks, voice clearly taunting her best friend.

 

“Do I need a reason?”

 

“School drop-off is at 9 and your day usually doesn’t start until 11, so, yes.”

 

“Okay, then my reason is that she’s my goddaughter and I love her and I want to take her to school.”

 

“You want to meet Misty,” Cordelia says.

 

“Excuse you—” Coco starts, but scoffs and stops herself. “You know what? Yes, I do. My best friend is dating a woman for the first time in her entire life, and if I don’t get to meet said woman and look at her and talk to her sometime soon, I am going to combust.”

 

“Okay, crazy,” Cordelia laughs. “You can take Vi tomorrow. It actually would be nice to lay in bed all morning. I have no idea when the last time is that I did that.”

 

“Amazing. See you around 8:30?”

 

“Great.”

 

When Coco arrives at the house the following morning, Cordelia has just gotten Violet to sit at the table.

 

“Auntie Coco!” Violet cries, and scoots out of her chair to launch herself into Coco’s arms.

 

“Hi, angel!” Coco presses a series of kisses to Violet’s face. “I’m so excited to take you to school.”

 

“You’re gonna see my classroom!” Violet says. “And Jeremiah — he’s a frog! And my teacher, Miss Day!”

 

“I can’t wait,” Coco says, making eyes at Cordelia.

 

“Eat your breakfast, Vi, and then you can go,” Cordelia tells her.

 

Coco sets Violet back down in her chair, and the five-year-old points proudly to her plate, where Cordelia had arranged the eggs, bacon, and fruit into a smile. “Look, Auntie Coco! It’s a smiley face! Mommy made it.”

 

“That is amazing,” Coco says, walking over to stand by Cordelia. “Your mama is the best one in the whole world, huh?”

 

“Yep!” Violet chirps, and begins working on her plate.

 

“Does she always have this much energy at eight in the morning?” Coco asks under her breath.

 

Cordelia nods into her coffee mug. “Every day.”

 

“Jesus. You are a saint.”

 

Cordelia laughs, and then sobers as she sets her mug down on the counter. “Promise me you won’t be weird,” she demands.

 

“I swear. I just want to meet her, Cords.”

 

“No talking about me, either. I don’t want any parents or kids to overhear and get suspicious.”

 

“You know I would never,” Coco says.

 

“I know,” Cordelia promises. “I just had to say it.”

 

After another ten minutes, Violet has finished her food and Coco is loading her into the extra booster seat she keeps in her car. She makes Cordelia promise to get some well-deserved rest, and then she and Violet are gone and off to school.

 

By that afternoon, Cordelia is excited to pick up Violet from school for the first time all week. She’s dressed more casually than usual, having not been at the office, and it feels nice to blend in more with the crowd of parents at pick-up.

 

When she arrives at the classroom, Misty is standing in the doorway, as usual. Cordelia watches as her eyes flicker over her boots, jeans, and turtleneck sweater. Unlike she usually does, Misty does a very poor job of concealing the look of arousal in her eyes.

 

“Hi,” Cordelia says, her body humming with the thrill of Misty’s gaze.

 

Misty nods once and, after checking to be sure there’s no one behind Cordelia, takes another look at the woman in front of her.

 

“I like you in jeans, Cordelia Goode.”

 

Cordelia can’t stop herself from smiling at the compliment, so she leans inside to pass it off as catching Violet’s attention. She waves at her daughter to indicate that she should start getting ready to go, and then looks back at Misty.

 

“I hope Coco didn’t give you any trouble,” Cordelia says. “At drop-off, I mean. She said everything went well, but I also know my best friend.”

 

Misty shrugs. “She just asked me what my intentions were with you and wanted to make sure I was treating you right.”

 

Cordelia freezes. Her eyes widen and she feels an instant blush creeping up her neck. “Oh, my god. Misty, I—”

 

“I’m kidding, Cordelia.” Misty reaches an hand out to hold on to Cordelia’s forearm before she can stop herself, but she only gives a gentle squeeze before dropping her arm back to her side. The relief on Cordelia’s face is palpable, and Misty laughs softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out. Coco was great. She said she knew you’d kill her if she talked about you, but that it was nice to meet me. That was pretty much it.”

 

“I wouldn’t have put it past her to actually interrogate you,” Cordelia explains, but Misty shakes her head.

 

“It was fine. She seems fun.”

 

Before Cordelia can say anything, Violet skips over with a piece of construction paper in her hand. “Mommy! Mommy, look what I made!”

 

Cordelia bends to hug her daughter and admire the artwork, a “turkey” made from Violet’s handprint. Her palm and thumb had clearly been painted brown, while her other four fingers were painted orange, red, green, and yellow.

 

“Sweetheart, this is so beautiful. Can we hang it on the fridge at home?” Violet nods, so Cordelia kisses her and takes her hand before standing again. “Alright, say goodbye.”

 

“Bye, Miss Day!”

 

“Bye, Violet. Bye, Cordelia. See you tomorrow,” Misty says, mostly to Cordelia, and the look in Misty’s eye tells her she’s not the only one who has been thinking non-stop about their second date tomorrow night.

 

. . .

 

“Excellent work. Keep kneading for another ten minutes or so while I go and check on our sauce.”

 

Cordelia thanks the chef instructing them and watches as he disappears from the room that they’re in. Misty, much to Cordelia’s surprise and delight, had planned a private cooking class for them to hand-make ravioli. She’d known they’d be wearing aprons, but warned Cordelia to dress down anyway. If Cordelia could take a guess, she’d say it also may have had something to do with the comment Misty made about seeing her in her jeans yesterday.

 

“Yours looks better than mine,” Cordelia tells her, eyeing the dough that Misty is rolling her fingers through. “Why is mine so sticky?”

 

“You need more flour,” Misty laughs. “And they’re both _ours_ , anyway. It’s all getting combined, remember?”

 

Cordelia hums, enjoying the way Misty had pointed that out. She reaches between them to get more flour, but Misty turns to grab a roller and their arms bump, resulting in Misty’s face going practically white with flour.

 

“Oh, my god,” Cordelia murmurs. She purses her lips for barely two seconds before she bursts out laughing, Misty joining her instantly. “I’m so sorry,” Cordelia says, using her fingers to wipe the flour off of Misty’s cheeks.

 

Misty adds her own hands, too, until it’s all brushed off save for a smidge on her nose. Cordelia reaches over to dust it off, but Misty catches her hand mid-air and uses it to pull Cordelia in for a soft kiss.

 

Cordelia smiles against her lips and, when they separate, wipes off the last bit of flour.

 

When they’ve finished kneading the dough, the chef has them separate it into smaller pieces that they’ll make into pasta. They work together to make ravioli-size dough pockets, even making small shapes and indentions on the borderline of their pieces to give them some design.

 

Their hands are touching constantly, helping and fixing and molding as they work. Every time Misty’s fingers — whether by accident or on purpose — brush and rub against her own, Cordelia swears it will be _the_ time that her heart bursts out of her chest.

 

Their next task is to fill their dough pockets with the sauce they’d made, which Cordelia is miserably bad at. When she pours the sauce too heavily for the third time, resulting in it spilling all over her fingers, she finally admits defeat and Misty laughs.

 

Misty finishes the ravioli piece she’d been filling herself and then, setting it down, moves to take Cordelia’s sauce covered hand in her own. Carefully, Misty brings Cordelia’s hand to her mouth, and half-kisses, half-sucks the tomato sauce off of Cordelia’s fingers.

 

Never in her life has someone done something so erotic for Cordelia, and the strange newness is not lost on her. For a moment, she thinks Misty’s going to take her fingers into her mouth and suck, and the thought alone makes her lightheaded. But Misty refrains, and just the sight in front of Cordelia is enough to send a heat straight between her thighs.

 

“Better?” Misty asks, when the sauce is gone, but Cordelia’s voice is lost somewhere in her throat, so she simply nods. Misty giggles and moves to turn back to her next ravioli, but Cordelia stops her in the process and reaches up to kiss her.

 

It’s the first kiss she’s initiated, and she feels embarrassed when she slightly misses her mark and only catches the side of Misty’s mouth, but Misty grins and turns back towards Cordelia for a proper kiss.

 

“Hey,” Cordelia says, her breath against Misty’s lips, “I really like you, too.”

 

“I’m glad,” Misty says, and kisses her again. “Even if you are really, really terrible at making ravioli.”

 

. . .

 

“Hi, Queenie.”

 

“Hey, Cordelia.” The young woman sitting at her desk outside of Marie’s office smiles.

 

“Is Marie on a call or anything?” Cordelia asks her.

 

“Nope,” Queenie says of her boss. “All good to go in.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Cordelia does, opening Marie’s door and closing it behind her.

 

“Hey, baby,” Marie says. “What’s up?”

 

Cordelia sits in one of the armchairs across from Marie’s desk, her knee bouncing with nervous energy. “I want to talk to you about something.”

 

“Something happen with the Duke case?”

 

“No.”

 

“Violet’s okay?” Marie asks. “Fiona?”

 

“All good,” Cordelia nods. “This is about me, actually.”

 

Marie furrows her eyebrows and sits back in her chair, hoping to put Cordelia at ease with the relaxed position. “Talk to me.”

 

Cordelia pauses for a deep breath. _Oh, what the hell._ “I’m dating a woman,” she blurts out. “I’m dating a woman, and it’s — well, it should be casual, but I think it’s more serious than either of us anticipated, and I wanted to tell you, even if it is premature, because you’re my partner and my friend and I want you to know who I am, and—”

 

“Cordelia,” Marie interrupts. “Much as I love seeing you ramble, you can stop.” She smiles. “I’m happy for you, baby. Who you love makes no difference to me. And, no offense, but I think that ex-husband of yours is enough to make any woman run to the other team,” Marie teases. “All joking aside, you’re all good here, Cordelia.”

 

Cordelia lets out a long breath and nods as she takes in her colleague’s words. “Thank you, Marie. Thank you so much. I hope this doesn’t affect our business in any way, because—”

 

“It wouldn’t,” Marie says simply. “We wouldn’t take on a homophobe before this and we won’t moving forward. Nothing changes.” She shrugs, and then gives Cordelia a suspicious eye. “I was wondering where that happy glow came from. She must be pretty special.”

 

Cordelia sighs out a smile. “Beyond.”

 

. . .

 

It’s late November when Cordelia finally gets the news she’s been waiting for for over a month. The district attorney, an old friend, calls Cordelia personally to let her know that her custody hearing request has been approved for mid-January. Cordelia knows that it can sometimes take up to six months to get a hearing, so she thanks the man graciously for working his magic.

 

Ecstatic, Cordelia calls Coco and then Misty with the news, the latter offering to celebrate with champagne at her apartment this weekend. Cordelia’s stomach does flips at the thought of getting to be alone with Misty in her home. They’ve spent the last month finding things to do in public that still allow for privacy, and Cordelia is more than excited to just have a quiet night in with her.

 

When she arrives at Misty’s apartment, having already tucked in Violet at her own home and leaving Zoe at the house with her, Misty answers the door and immediately brings Cordelia in for a hug.

 

“I’m so happy for you, darling,” Misty says against her ear, and kisses the side of Cordelia’s head. Cordelia pulls back, grinning, and Misty leans in to kiss her deeply. They break apart only for long enough to Misty to close the door and back Cordelia into it, effectively trapping Cordelia between her body and the door.

 

They stand there, kissing, Misty’s arms around Cordelia’s waist and Cordelia’s hands cupping Misty’s cheeks, until Misty finally pulls away.

 

“We’ve got celebrating to do,” she says. Misty’s eyes are sparkling and Cordelia can already feel wetness pooling in her own underwear and, _okay, that’s how tonight’s going to be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you all enough for the feedback to this story. It means the world to me :)


	9. You Make Me Feel So Brand New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Let’s Stay Together by Al Green. The song is featured within the chapter, too ;)

“I’ll give you a proper tour, first.”

 

Misty walks Cordelia through the kitchen, dining area, and living room. It’s all wood, with earthy and bohemian accents, and Cordelia thinks it suits Misty perfectly.

 

In the corner of the living room is a clearly vintage turntable, next to it a four-tiered bookshelf completely filled with records. Cordelia walks over to it, brushing the tips of her fingers past one row of records.

 

“If I were to guess,” she says, turning around to look at Misty, “that the one on the player right now is Fleetwood Mac, would I be right?”

 

Misty laughs and walks over to join her by the turntable. She’d told Cordelia of her love for her favorite band, even noting that her early obsession with Stevie Nicks was the first indicator of her knowing she was a lesbian. Misty turns the record player on and the disc on the table begins to spin the band’s titular album. The first track having already spun through, “Warm Ways” begins to play quietly.

 

Misty shows Cordelia the rest of the apartment, which consists of Misty’s bedroom, the guest bedroom, and the bathroom. When they return to the kitchen, Misty grabs the bottle of champagne sitting on the countertop and offers it to Cordelia to pop. She plucks two old-fashioned champagne glasses from her cabinet and, once Cordelia has opened the bottle, Misty pours two glasses.

 

“Cheers to you, Cordelia. You are an incredible woman and a wonderful mother, and I am so lucky to know you.”

 

Cordelia ducks her head modestly, but Misty is quick to get two gentle fingers under her chin to bring it back up. “I mean it,” Misty says, and clinks their glasses together in a toast. They each take a sip, and Misty takes Cordelia’s hand to lead her over to the couch.

 

They take their shoes off to get comfortable, and Misty folds her long legs to tuck them beneath her while Cordelia simply crosses her legs, facing Misty.

 

“So, when’s the hearing?” Misty asks.

 

“January 15. Hank called me after the DA sent him the email to inform him; that was fun,” Cordelia says dryly. Misty frowns, but Cordelia sips on her champagne easily. “I think he’s scared that he’s going to lose custody, even if he knows he deserves to.”

 

“What happens if he does? Lose custody, I mean.”

 

“He might get visitation, but it would have to be supervised,” Cordelia explains. “He won’t be able to just pick her up from the house and take her anymore, _thank god_. And, currently, we share legal custody, which means he still has a say in her medical, religious, and educational decisions. We’ve never disagreed on any of that, but I’m sure that as she gets older, it would happen. If I get sole custody, it would be all in my control.”

 

Misty nods in understanding. “I’m just sorry you have to go through all of this to begin with. It sounds messy, even if it’s what you do for a living.”

 

“It is,” Cordelia concedes. “But getting the court date is a good start, so I’ll take my small victories as they come.”

 

Misty raises her glass. “Well, cheers to that.”

 

After two hours of talking, re-filling their glasses of champagne, and switching the records every so often, they finally wind up cuddled together in the middle of the couch. Misty’s arm is around Cordelia’s waist, Cordelia’s cheek rested on Misty’s chest, as they sit just listening to the sound of Al Green’s voice drifting through the room.

 

Misty turns her head to press a kiss to the top of Cordelia’s head, and Cordelia tilts her head to capture Misty’s lips. When Misty kisses back, her fingers tighten around Cordelia’s waist in an effort to get her even closer. Without giving it another thought, Cordelia leans in and shifts her weight, inching forward until she’s straddling Misty’s lap. The movement causes her to accidentally grind down on Misty, and both women let out twin gasps.

 

Misty moves first to close the space between them, her insistent mouth parting Cordelia’s so that she can slip her tongue inside. A whimper escapes Cordelia’s lips, and she opens herself willingly to Misty as the fight against gyrating her hips becomes more difficult by the second.

 

When Misty retracts her tongue to suck Cordelia’s bottom lip between her teeth, Cordelia breaks.

 

She rolls forward, and Misty’s hands come up to grip Cordelia’s hips under her sweater, encouraging the movement that has Misty moaning. They’re practically dry humping on Misty’s couch, but Cordelia knows that, if anyone is going to make the suggestion to go further, it will have to be her. Misty wouldn’t dare pressure her into what she knows is a foreign experience for Cordelia, no matter how badly she may want it.

 

Cordelia’s hands are on Misty’s face and in her hair, so it’s easy for her to break their kiss and pull Misty’s face to look up at her.

 

“Misty,” she says, her chest heaving from just the last five minutes. “Take me to bed.”

 

Misty rubs her thumbs against the bare skin of Cordelia’s hips and kisses her softly. “You’re sure?”

 

“I’m positive.”

 

That’s all Misty needs before her mouth is on Cordelia’s again. Cordelia plans on un-mounting Misty so that she can stand up, but then Misty — with a strength that Cordelia shouldn’t be surprised by, given the amount of times she’d ogled her defined muscles — rises from the couch, Cordelia still in her arms. Her hands are under Cordelia’s ass, and the squeeze that Misty gives her asscheeks makes Cordelia begin to grind her hips again within her limited range of motion.

 

Misty moves, basically blindly, to her bedroom. Cordelia uses one arm to close the door behind them, and then Misty is dropping her on the bed. When Misty crawls towards her on all fours, Cordelia feels goosebumps erupting across her body. Misty dips down to capture her lips in another kiss, and Cordelia begins tugging on Misty’s dress in an attempt to pull the fabric upwards.

 

Catching her intention, Misty sits back on her knees that straddle Cordelia’s hips, pulls her dress over her head, and tosses it to be somewhere on the floor. It leaves her in a lacy, white bralette and her underwear, and Cordelia feels her mouth go dry. She reaches her arms up to touch soft, milky white skin, and Misty leans down so that there’s more of her for Cordelia to touch.

 

They kiss again, now a clashing of lips and teeth as Misty slides her hands down to relieve Cordelia of her sweater. With Cordelia’s help, they remove the top for Misty to throw off the bed. At the sudden feeling of cool air against her skin, Cordelia arches her back, and Misty lowers herself again to cover her.

 

“I’ve got you, baby,” she says, and begins kissing her way down Cordelia’s neck. Much as she’d like to, she refrains from sucking anywhere that she knows would be visible later. Instead, she trails a line with her tongue down until she reaches the top of Cordelia’s bra.

 

Misty kisses the part of Cordelia’s breast that isn’t covered, and brings one hand up to palm the other breast through her bra, earning a loud moan from Cordelia. She alternates, making sure to pay both breasts equal attention, before continuing her trail of kisses down the flat plane of her stomach.

 

She reaches one hand down to the button of Cordelia’s jeans, looking up to silently ask for permission.

 

“Take them off,” Cordelia all but whimpers, and Misty gladly complies. She tugs them down as far as she can before Cordelia needs to help kick them off, allowing Misty to settle between her legs.

 

Cordelia watches as Misty presses an open-mouthed kiss to the top of her mound, through her soaked underwear. It’s enough to make Cordelia’s hips buck off of the bed, giving Misty an idea of how sensitive she is. She eases her arms under Cordelia’s thighs, resting soft palms on her stomach to gently hold Cordelia in place.

 

Misty moves in again, this time lowering her mouth to kiss the outside of Cordelia’s labia, all still through her panties. Cordelia cries out Misty’s name, and that’s when Misty begins using her tongue. She licks a few strokes up and down, up and down, until Cordelia is trembling.

 

“Please,” she cries. “Please, Misty.”

 

And, if Misty couldn’t resist her before, she sure as hell won’t now. Sitting up, she gently pulls Cordelia’s underwear down and off long, smooth legs so that she’s completely bared. Her arms resume their position around Cordelia’s thighs, and Misty takes an indulgent look at Cordelia’s spread.

 

“Good god, you’re so wet,” Misty muses, and dips down to get her first taste.

 

Cordelia just about jackknifes off the bed, but Misty holds her down and open. She uses her lips and tongue to spread the wetness around, humming to herself as she swallows a taste every once in a while. Cordelia moans with almost every new contact, and Misty feels her thighs shaking underneath her arms.

 

“Misty, _please_ ,” she begs again, so Misty finally complies, flicking out her tongue towards Cordelia’s clit.

 

“ _Oh, my god_.”

 

Misty had planned on going back to teasing her, but when she sees the muscles in Cordelia’s stomach begin to tighten and quiver, she realizes how close she actually is. She closes her mouth around Cordelia’s clit, sucking it fully into her mouth and massaging it with her tongue until Cordelia screams, back arching completely off the bed as her thighs clamp around Misty’s head.

 

After licking up most of the remaining wetness, Misty presses a series of slow, soothing kisses down Cordelia’s thigh, until she feels tired arms pulling on her to come up. Misty grins at the look on Cordelia’s face, somehow both completely sated and ready for more.

 

“That was,” Cordelia starts, but her breathing hasn’t yet returned to normal, so she trusts Misty understands. In the darkness of the room, Misty can still see the shift in the color of Cordelia’s skin; everywhere above her breasts is flushed red with arousal and exertion.

 

Misty doesn’t waste much time before reaching her arms around Cordelia’s back to unhook her bra. She wants to see all of her, and Cordelia is more than willing. Cordelia paws at Misty’s bralette, too, so that Misty peels it off and throws it to join the items of clothing already on her bedroom floor.

 

Leaning forward again, Misty begins grinding her hips down against Cordelia’s. Their breasts rub together, and Misty groans at the sensation. She leans in to kiss Cordelia, who tastes herself on Misty’s lips for the first time.

 

When Misty rolls against her, Cordelia whines, and Misty takes the opportunity to slide her tongue into Cordelia’s mouth. She moves down, re-tracing her earlier trail until she’s at Cordelia’s now-bare breasts. Misty flicks one hard nipple with her tongue, then quickly takes it between her lips.

 

While one of her hands kneads the breast that her mouth isn’t on, Misty begins sucking at the underside Cordelia’s other breast. She bites down, resulting in Cordelia pushing her chest up further into Misty’s mouth, and they both know she’s leaving a mark.

 

While Cordelia is distracted with the sensation of Misty’s mouth on her breast, Misty moves her arm down until she can slide two fingers through Cordelia’s slick folds. Between the remaining wetness from her first orgasm and the attention Misty had paid her breasts, Cordelia is ready for her again.

 

Misty drags her fingers separately through Cordelia’s labia, then combining them to rub up her middle and tease her clit. Cordelia lets out a string of curses, one leg coming up to hook over Misty’s lower back.

 

When Misty bows her head to take a nipple into her mouth while simultaneously pushing one finger inside of her, Cordelia screams. Her fingernails dig into Misty’s shoulders as she thrusts her hips to meet Misty’s fingers. In response, Misty adds another finger and begins curling them. She licks and kisses back up Cordelia’s chest, finally landing at the side of her face.

 

“You feel amazing, Delia,” Misty purrs against her ear, and she hears Cordelia whimper as her body starts to shake uncontrollably. She decides not to torture her any longer, and adds her thumb to rub circles against Cordelia’s clit.

 

“M- _Misty_!” Cordelia cries, her hips bucking out of rhythm to get more, more, more.

 

Misty bites the shell of her ear, and Cordelia’s orgasm hits her like a train. The feeling that has been building for the last several minutes breaks within her, and Misty doesn’t stop moving inside her until Cordelia tightens so significantly that Misty has no choice but to slow down. She helps Cordelia ride it out, only pulling away when she feels Cordelia start to do so instinctually.

 

Misty finally rolls off of her, landing flat on her back, but pulls Cordelia over to cuddle close. Cordelia rests her head on Misty’s chest and wraps one arm to hold onto her waist.

 

Neither of them speaks for a minute, while Cordelia recovers from her orgasms and Misty draws her fingertips in shapes along the expanse of Cordelia’s back.

 

“You okay?” Misty finally asks, dropping a kiss to her head.

 

Cordelia moves to prop herself up with her elbow. Her eyes meet Misty’s, dark blue and deep with genuine consideration for Cordelia’s current feeling.

 

_I’m great. I’ve never been better in my entire life. I think I’m in love with you_ , Cordelia wants to say.

 

“Yes,” she says instead, and leans in to kiss Misty. As she does, she shifts to be on top of her. Cordelia immediately feels the heat radiating from between Misty’s thighs, so she grinds down so that their clits rub together through Misty’s underwear.

 

Misty’s eyes roll to the back of her head, and Cordelia repeats the motion again and again while leaning down to cover Misty’s mouth with her own.

 

When she breaks the kiss, she stops her movement and looks apprehensively at Misty. “I’ve never—” Cordelia starts, blushing furiously. “I mean—”

 

“Shh.” Misty stretches up to kiss her. “You’re doing fine, darling.”

 

Cordelia nods, reassured, and sits up. With Misty’s help, she gets her underwear off, revealing a thick patch of dark blonde hair. Cordelia’s mouth waters, and she uses one hand to cup Misty’s center, tentatively running her fingers through the wetness she finds.

 

“Inside,” Misty pleads, so Cordelia pushes one, then eventually two fingers into slick, velvet heat.

 

Misty’s moan shakes the both of them, so Cordelia scissors and curls her fingers inside, slowly dipping in and out, as she would if she were inside her own body. Misty’s arches her chest up, and then slowly relaxes as Cordelia continues moving.

 

“Come closer,” she says, voice thick with want as she reaches to pull Cordelia down. Her arms slide under Cordelia’s so that she can hold onto her back.

 

Cordelia stops her fingers, momentarily distracted by Misty’s lips on hers, but resumes when she feels Misty’s hips push up against hers needily.

 

“Oh, god,” Misty groans. She’s incredibly turned on, both from watching Cordelia come and from Cordelia’s eagerness to please her. “Faster, baby.”

 

Cordelia does as she asks, pumping her fingers despite the slight cramp in her hand. As she does, the side of her thumb is incidentally rubbing against Misty’s clit.

 

“Cordelia, I’m—”

 

And then Misty is coming around her fingers, and Cordelia slows down to help her through it. When she’s finally able  to pull out, Cordelia feels a surge of confidence at the sheer fact that she’d been able to bring Misty to orgasm. The sudden rush of new emotions has her bringing her hand up to suck Misty’s come off of her fingers.

 

“Jesus,” Misty whispers. “Come here.”

 

Cordelia does, then, letting herself fall forward to lay mostly on top of Misty. Misty kisses her forehead, damp with sweat, and then listens to the sound of both of their heartbeats slowing to a normal rate.

 

“I wish I could stay,” Cordelia says after a minute, her voice small as her lips press against Misty’s chest.

 

“Me, too, baby.” Misty’s arms are wrapped around her, cocooning her in a way that makes Cordelia feel warm and safer than she’s ever felt. “Someday.”


	10. The Shoe Might Fit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Beyond by Leon Bridges.

The Friday before St. Martin’s Episcopal lets out for winter break, the three Kindergarten classes host their annual Christmas pageant. While all students had to participate in one way or another, the majority of them usually opted to be a part of either the choir, the herd of sheep, or the mostly speech-less group of angels.

 

Violet Foxx was not one of those people.

 

Much to Cordelia’s delight, Violet had volunteered to have a speaking role in the play. She would be playing the North Star, and would lead the Three Wise Men along their journey to see the Baby Jesus. While Cordelia and Hank hadn’t raised Violet with any particular religion, Cordelia was just happy that Violet was getting to experience theater and practice her public speaking abilities. They had been practicing her lines for two weeks now, and Violet was overwhelmingly excited.

 

Fiona flies in from New York the day before the play, insistent on seeing her granddaughter. Cordelia is sure to tell Hank about the event, because, even though he’d been uglier to her than usual after finding out about the court hearing, she still needed to play nice for another month. Coco also wanted to come, so Violet would have a whole ensemble of people sitting in the audience for her.

 

That Friday morning, Cordelia walks an already-costumed Violet to her classroom. Cordelia herself had dressed for the occasion in a dark green, velvet dress.

 

“I’ll see you in just a little bit, okay?” Cordelia says as they approach the doorway. “I’ll be sitting with Auntie Coco and Grandma, so just look for us.” It’s not that Cordelia doesn’t think Hank will show — it would be particularly stupid of him to do so ahead of the hearing — but she certainly wouldn’t put it past him. If he comes, Violet can be happily surprised.

 

Cordelia bends to hug her. “I love you, my angel. You’re going to do so well! I can’t wait.”

 

Violet grins and nods before skipping into her classroom. She waves hello to Misty, who smiles at her on her way to see Cordelia at the door.

 

“Hi, gorgeous,” Misty says quietly. “Do you have to look so goddamn good all the time?”

 

Cordelia laughs and resists the urge to step into Misty’s arms and kiss her. She eyes Misty’s own outfit, high-waisted navy pants that flare out at the bottom and a simple white sweater. As usual, she looks somehow simultaneously fashionable, comfortable, and school-appropriate. Cordelia bites down gently on her bottom lip and focuses her eyes back on Misty’s.

 

“I have to go. I want to get good seats,” she says.

 

“Okay,” Misty laughs. “Make sure you’re somewhere I can see you.”

 

Cordelia nods and offers one more smile before waving her off and starting towards the school’s auditorium.

 

Coco is the first to arrive, a bouquet of beautiful flowers in one hand, twenty minutes before the play is set to start. Cordelia motions her to where she’d saved four seats, so Coco walks over and takes the one to the left of her best friend.

 

“Thanks for grabbing these,” Cordelia tells her of the flowers, which Coco had agreed to pick up so that they had something to give Violet at the end of the show.

  
“Of course,” Coco says. “Fiona’s coming, too, right?”

 

“Yeah, she texted me asking where to park, so she should be here any minute.”

 

“And Hank?”

 

“Allegedly,” Cordelia deadpans. “How was the double date?”

 

Coco had been on six dates now with Will The Dermatologist. Cordelia knew that Coco was serious about him when she didn’t sleep with him until the fifth one, and that date had gone so well that Will had asked her to meet his brother and his brother’s husband for their next one.

 

“It was so great,” Coco says dreamily, and Cordelia laughs.

 

“What was _so great_ about it?” She imitates her best friend’s voice, earning an elbow to her side.

 

“His brother is just like him: charming and attractive and sweet. His husband was great, too. They’ve been together for forever — since high school — so they told me stories about Will as a teenager, and it was just really friendly and cute. I think I may get to meet Jack next.”

 

“Co, that’s huge!” Cordelia grins. “If he wants to introduce you to his son, he’s got to be pretty serious about you.”

 

“I know,” Coco nods. “I’m crazy about him, Cords.”

 

“I know you are. I’m so happy for you.”

 

“When’s the last time _both of us_ were getting laid by people we actually like?” Coco muses under her breath.

 

Cordelia thinks for a few seconds and then looks at Coco. “Never.”

 

Coco says the same word at the same time, and both of them burst into laughter.

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

Fiona appears in the row that they’re sitting in, holding a bouquet of roses tied with a white bow, and takes the open seat next to Cordelia.

 

“Hi, Mother.”

 

“Hello, Delia, Coco.” Fiona presses a cordial kiss to Cordelia’s cheek and then leans over to see Coco.

 

“Hi, Fiona,” Coco says. “It’s nice to see you.”

 

“Why is there another seat reserved?” Fiona asks them. Coco’s silence combined with the exasperated look on Cordelia’s face gives Fiona her answer. “Oh, Delia. You didn’t.”

 

“Didn’t what, Mother?” Cordelia says sharply, keeping her voice low. The last thing she wants is for other parents nearby to catch onto her conversation. “My court date is four week away. The easiest thing for him to use against me is to say I don’t include him in things; I’m not giving him any ammo.”

 

Fiona rolls her eyes. “Well, I’m not sitting next to him. I’ll kill him, and I look dreadful in orange.”

 

“Fine,” Cordelia says. “Switch with me.”

 

“No, Cords, let me,” Coco insists. Cordelia starts to protest, but Coco sets a hand on her forearm and squeezes. “He’s been such an ass wipe to you these last few months. Just let me do it.”

 

Before Cordelia can argue, Coco gets up and slides past both other women. Fiona moves to Cordelia’s other side, and they’re both sitting in their new seats on opposite sides of Cordelia when Hank himself arrives.

 

Cordelia bites her tongue when she sees he’s wearing jeans, but she refrains from commenting. The play is supposed to start in three minutes, and there’s no sense in making a fuss now.

 

Hank bids all three women hello, with only Coco and Cordelia returning the greeting.

 

When the lights dim, Misty walks onto the stage with a handheld microphone. Cordelia grins upon seeing her, and Coco reaches a hand over to teasingly squeeze her leg.

 

“Welcome, family and friends of the St. Martin’s Kindergarten Class.”

 

While Misty continues talking, asking all audience members to silence their cell phones, Coco leans in to Cordelia’s ear.

 

“She looks so good,” Coco whispers.

 

Cordelia nods subtly and blushes, pleased with having her best friend’s support and encouragement.

 

Misty says a few things about how hard the classes have worked on their play. She makes brief eye contact with Cordelia, but is careful not to let the corners of her lips turn up _too_ much. Cordelia, on the other hand, is nearly giddy.

 

When Misty leaves the stage, the lights in the packed auditorium dim completely and the red stage curtains are drawn to either side.

 

The play is cute, if predictable, and all of the children look adorable in their costumes. Violet delivers each of her lines perfectly, leaving all four adults beaming with pride. Coco takes pictures and videos so that Cordelia can simply enjoy watching, and, when she show ends, every audience member offers a standing ovation to the kindergarteners.

 

Afterwards, everyone is shuffled into a reception area, where parents can pick up their children and grab a snack or drink. Cordelia is the first to spot Violet in the pick-up area, still in her gold sequin costume dress, so she waves excitedly and then bends to let Violet jump into her arms.

 

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you!” Cordelia cries. “You did so well, just like I knew you would.” She kisses all over Violet’s face and grins at her five-year-old. “Did you have fun?”

 

“Uh-huh! I remembered all my lines!”

 

“I know you did! Even if you had forgotten any, you still would have been the best.”

 

Violet giggles and then, looking over Cordelia’s shoulder, sees the other three adults who had come to see her in her play. Cordelia sets her down so that she can hug each of them, but she notices that Violet lingers near her godmother and grandmother — perhaps because they’re giving her flowers, but perhaps it’s where she feels the most comfortable, Cordelia muses.

 

They spend the next ten minutes socializing, as classmates come up to Violet and parents approach Cordelia, who introduces them to the other three adults.

 

Cordelia is about to suggest they leave when Violet’s exclamation has her turning on her heel.

 

“Miss Day!” She cries, and jumps into Misty’s arms.

 

“Well, isn’t it just the star of the show?” Misty asks, and Violet giggles at her pun. “You’re awfully lucky to have a whole group of folks here to see you, Miss Vi.”

 

“I know,” Violet says. Cordelia watches as her ever-perceptive daughter picks up on the fact that Misty has not yet met her beloved grandmother. “Miss Day, this is my Grandma!”

 

“Fiona Goode,” Fiona says, extending her hand for Misty to shake it.

 

“It’s a pleasure,” Misty says cordially, showing no indication of knowing anything about Fiona to the other woman.

 

“And you know my Daddy,” Violet continues, “and my Auntie Coco, and Mommy!”

 

“I sure do. I’m so glad that you all could make it.” Her eyes shift between the group of adults, landing on Cordelia.

 

Cordelia can’t help the loving smile that blooms on her face until, remembering herself, she looks at Violet. “We should get going, Vi. Say bye to Miss Day, okay?”

 

Violet obliges, hugging her teacher goodbye before Cordelia reaches to take her from Misty. As Misty transfers the five-year-old into Cordelia’s arms, the hand closer to Cordelia’s back slides down it and lingers for half a second before moving to be back at her side. Cordelia’s stomach flutters at the small gesture of affection.

 

“Bye, Violet,” Misty says, but she’s looking between Violet and Cordelia. “Merry Christmas.”

 

. . .

 

“Delia.”

 

“Yes, Mother?”

 

They’re sitting in the living room of Cordelia’s home, most of the way through a bottle of wine. Violet had been put to sleep hours ago, and the house is quiet.

 

“I need to ask you something, and I can’t believe I’m going to, but I am.”

 

Cordelia furrows her eyebrows. “Um, okay. Ask.”

 

Fiona sets her glass down on the coffee table.

 

“Are you sleeping with Violet’s teacher?”

 

Cordelia all but spits out the sip of wine in her mouth, and Fiona rolls her eyes. “So that’s a yes.”

 

“Mother—”

 

“Don’t bother lying. It was written all over your pretty glass face today. And hers, for Christ’s sake. I mean, Jesus, do you two look at each other like that every day at school? I’m surprised the baby they borrowed for that play doesn’t know by now.”

 

Cordelia’s face is flushing red with embarrassment. She’s still searching her brain for something, _anything_ , to say, when Fiona speaks again.

 

“I had no idea you were gay,” Fiona says, as if she’s commenting on the weather.

 

“I’m not—”

 

“Although, I guess it does make sense. Of all the men in the world, no sane straight woman would ever have chosen Hank Foxx.”

 

Cordelia sighs, bracing herself to take control of the conversation. Had the thought crossed her mind that she was potentially always interested in women and simply suppressed it? Yes. She’d settled for Hank; she knew that. But now was not the time or company with whom she would discuss this matter.

 

“Misty and I have been seeing each other, yes,” she finally says. “Almost no one knows, including Violet, and it will stay that way for the time being.”

 

“Well, you’d better be more careful, then.” Fiona sips on her wine. “She must be why you’re looking so much less depressed,” she says. “I was wondering who it was.” Fiona thinks on her own words for a while, and then shrugs. “You know, Delia, I’ve never fucked a woman—”

 

“Mother,” Cordelia pleads, dropping her forehead into the palm of her hand.

 

“Don’t interrupt,” Fiona demands. “I was going to say that, with how good your skin looks, maybe I need to start.”

 

Cordelia brushes a blonde curl behind her ear, trying to detract from the redness that hasn’t disappeared from her face.

 

“I mean it. You’re glowing. So either the sex is that good or you’re in love, or both. Either way, it’s a welcome — and much needed — change.”

 

“I‘m going to take that as a compliment,” Cordelia says, but Fiona just drains her glass and pours another.

 

Cordelia realizes that, of the three people she’s told, telling Fiona — and receiving her surprising if characteristic reaction — had elicited the most euphoria for her. Perhaps it’s because she wasn’t exactly worried about how Coco or Marie would react.

 

Regardless, she feels a weight lifted off her chest that she hadn’t known she was burdened by. She only hopes that her mother is the only one who had picked up on anything between the two of them.

 

. . .

 

“Hey, Vi?”

 

Cordelia is sitting up in bed, sipping on her mug of coffee as she stays warm under the covers.

 

Violet had come in early in the morning, wide awake despite it being a Saturday and their first day of her break from school. She’d snugged with Cordelia for an hour or so before finally becoming restless enough that Cordelia got up to get some caffeine for herself and a cup of dry cereal for Violet to enjoy in bed.

 

Cordelia had called Misty late last night, after Fiona had taken a car to her hotel, simply to say hello and wish her goodnight. The women had gotten into the habit of doing so lately, relishing every chance to catch up on their days and just hear each other’s voices.

 

Misty had asked if Cordelia wanted to come over for dinner Saturday night, which Cordelia had eagerly accepted. She and Violet had plans during the day, and she didn’t feel bad leaving her daughter with Zoe for an hour or so before she went to sleep.

 

“Yeah, Mama?” Violet crawls onto Cordelia’s lap, straddling her mother.

 

Cordelia runs her hand through one side of Violet’s absolutely wild bedhead and sets her coffee down on the nightstand. “How would you like it if Zoe came over tonight?”

 

“Okay,” Violet agrees easily. “Mama, why have you been playing with your friends more?”

 

Cordelia’s heart sinks. Had she been so naïve to think that Violet wouldn’t notice her babysitter — or occasionally Coco — coming over more frequently? She usually does her best to not leave to meet Misty until after Violet is already asleep, but she supposes her daughter has picked up on her absence more than usual.

 

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” Cordelia says. She sets her palms down on Violet’s skinny legs. “Mommy doesn’t mean to be gone so much.”

 

“Where do you go when you’re away with your friends?” To Cordelia’s minor relief, Violet doesn’t seem upset, just curious.

 

“Well, sometimes we go out to eat.” She thinks of what she could make up that might placate her daughter. “Sometimes we see movies.”

 

“I like movies,” Violet says. “Can me and Zoe watch a movie tonight?”

 

Cordelia swallows the guilty feeling that’s dried up her throat. “Nope,” she says to Violet, who looks immediately confused. “Because _you and me_ are going to watch a movie tonight.”

 

Cordelia is disappointed that she won’t get to see Misty, but she knows she made the right decision when Violet’s face lights up. Cordelia brings her in for a hug. “I’m sorry that I’ve been gone more,” she says, kissing Violet’s head. “I love you so much, and I am so happy that you’re on break from school so that we can spend time together.”

 

Violet pops up from her mother’s embrace. “Can I come to the office with you again?”

 

“Yes, you can,” Cordelia promises. “Only for a few days next week, though, and then Mommy gets a break from work, too.”

 

Cordelia and Violet spend the day doing Christmas shopping at the mall and, of course, waiting to take a photo with Santa. By the time they get home in the afternoon, Violet is wiped out and Cordelia puts her down for a much-needed nap.

 

Settling on the couch downstairs, she calls Misty, who picks up after the second ring.

 

“Hi, Cordelia,” her honey-sweet voice comes through the receiver, warming Cordelia to her toes. She feels another wave of guilt, this time for Misty.

 

“Hi. I don’t have good news,” Cordelia blurts out.

 

“What’s the matter?”

 

Cordelia sighs. “I asked Violet if she was okay with Zoe sitting tonight, and she flat out asked me why I’ve been gone more frequently than I usually am.”

 

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry.”

 

“I want to see you tonight. I miss you.” The words come out before Cordelia can stop them, and she instantly berates herself for sounding so needy. _You just saw her yesterday. And you were at her place on Tuesday. Jesus._

 

She hears Misty smile through the phone. “I miss you too. So much.”

 

_Oh._

 

“I miss your brown eyes, and your smile,” Misty continues. “I miss the way your head fits just right in my neck when I hold you, and the sounds you make when you come.”

 

Cordelia squeezes her thighs together, instantly desperate for any friction. She certainly hadn’t anticipated _this_ conversation when she’d called Misty.

 

“You’re making me really regret trying to be a good parent,” Cordelia grumbles.

 

Misty laughs. “I’m sorry. If Vi goes to bed early enough, maybe you can come by after she’s asleep. Otherwise, we can see each other another time. We’ll figure it out.”

 

Cordelia doesn’t speak for a minute, so Misty nudges her.

 

“You okay, darling?”

 

“Just thinking,” Cordelia answers. She pauses again. “What if — I mean, this might be a terrible idea, but — what if, maybe, you came over here?”

 

Misty doesn’t immediately reply, so Cordelia backtracks. “Never mind. Sorry. Of course that would be weird for you—”

 

“I didn’t say that,” Misty says thoughtfully. “I actually think it’s a good idea.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, why not? School doesn’t start back up for another two weeks; it’s not as if she’s seeing me one evening at her home and then the next morning as her teacher.”

 

Cordelia nods. “Right. Okay. So, you’ll come, then? We can have dinner here,” Cordelia says, nervous already, “though I’m really not much of a cook at all, as you know — maybe we can get take-out — and then — well, I promised Vi we’d watch a movie, so—”

 

“Delia,” Misty interrupts. “That sounds great. Anything sounds great. If I just get to be with you and Violet, I’m counting it as a good night already.”

 

A pleasant warmth blooms in Cordelia’s chest. “Okay.”

 

“Can I cook for the two of you?” Misty asks.

 

“You want to?”

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

Cordelia smiles. “That sounds great, then.”

 

After confirming that Violet likes tacos and that she should come over around 6 to start dinner, Misty tells Cordelia she can’t wait to see them and ends the call.

 

When Violet wakes from her nap, she walks into Cordelia’s room to find her mother freshly out of the shower and in her favorite fluffy white robe. Cordelia watches as Violet rubs her eyes tiredly and then reaches up for her.

 

“Hi, sleepyhead,” Cordelia says, lifting Violet into her arms to hold her. “I see you had a good nap.” Violet nods into her mother’s shoulder and Cordelia kisses her. “I have a surprise for you,” she says.

 

Violet finally lifts her head. “A present?”

 

“No, no presents until Christmas,” Cordelia reminds her, smiling. “Someone’s going to come over tonight for dinner and our movie.”

 

“Auntie Coco? Grandma? Miss Marie?”

 

“No, but all good guesses.” Cordelia pauses. “Miss Day is coming.”

 

“My teacher? Is coming to our house?”

 

“Yeah,” Cordelia says, sounding more confident than she feels. “Is that okay with you?”

 

“I love Miss Day!”

 

Cordelia smiles. “I know you do. So, that’s okay? If she comes?”

 

“Uh-huh. I want her to come.”

 

“Okay,” Cordelia laughs, relieved. “She’ll be here in a couple of hours. What do you say we get your bath in now, huh?”


	11. Why Can’t You (Imagine a World Like That)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Imagine by Ariana Grande, which helped inspire this entire story.

By the time the doorbell rings, Violet is so excited for Misty to come over that she sprints all the way to the front door.

 

“Violet, careful,” Cordelia calls as she walks behind her daughter.

 

Violet pulls the door open, bouncing on her tiptoes, and grins at the sight of her teacher in the doorway.

 

“Miss Day! You’re here! At my house!”

 

“Hi, Violet!” Misty bends to hug the five-year-old, but Violet is too energized to return the hug for more than a couple of seconds.

 

“I have to show you my room! And my LEGOs, and my dolls! And Mommy’s room!”

 

Misty and Cordelia both laugh as Misty rises to her full height. “I would love to see every single one of those things.” She winks at Cordelia over Violet’s head.

 

“I have to finish getting my room ready,” Violet tells Misty. “I’ll tell you when you can come up, okay?”

 

“Okay, sugar,” Misty agrees, sending Violet scampering up the stairs to her bedroom. When she’s gone, Misty and Cordelia move together out of sight of the staircase. Dropping her canvas bag of groceries carefully on the floor, Misty immediately gets both arms around Cordelia’s waist and brings her in for a long kiss.

 

“Mmm, _that’s_ what I missed,” Misty says when she pulls back. She pecks Cordelia’s lips again. “Hi.”

 

“Hi,” Cordelia giggles. Her arms are draped over Misty’s shoulders as she tilts her head to smile up at her.

 

Misty’s arms tighten around her back, and she uses Cordelia’s movement to press a string of kisses down her neck and shoulder. Cordelia stifles a whimper in Misty’s hair, so Misty backs off and returns to her lips.

 

“Sorry,” Misty whispers into her mouth. “Just wanted a little taste.”

 

“You are _so_ not making it better.”

 

“Well, later, then. After all, according to Vi, I’m getting a tour of your bedroom.”

 

Cordelia grins and leans in for another kiss, which is quickly interrupted by Violet yelling from her room that she’s ready for Miss Day to come and see it.

 

“We’ll be right there, sweetheart,” Cordelia calls up the stairs. She picks the bag of groceries up off the floor and walks it over to the kitchen. “I’m assuming some of this should go in the fridge?”

 

“Eh,” Misty shrugs, “it can sit out for a few minutes. Give me the tour!”

 

“Okay,” Cordelia laughs. “I guess we’re starting upstairs with Vi’s room.”

 

Violet is standing outside the door of her room when the two women arrive at the top of the staircase.

 

“You can come to my room, first,” Violet says, and runs over to take Misty’s hand and lead her to her bedroom. When Violet opens the door, Cordelia sees that, while the five-year-old’s bed is made, she had taken most of her toys out of the boxes they belong in and set them all out to be on display.

 

“Wow,” Misty marvels exaggeratedly. “Vi, this is the prettiest room I have ever seen!”

 

“Thank you,” Violet chirps. She walks Misty around the room, showing her everything from her bed and the lamp on her nightstand to her bookshelf and dresser and play area. She particularly points out Bunny, who sits in a coveted spot on Violet’s bed, her favorite baby doll, and her tower of oversized LEGOs.

 

“Now I see why you’re so smart, if you’re reading all of these books,” Misty says, eyeing her bookshelf.

 

“Mama helps sometimes,” Violet tells her. “But these,” she says as she points to one particular section, “I can read all by myself.”

 

“So organized,” Misty compliments.

 

“Thank you,” Violet repeats, sounding absolutely like Cordelia as she does. “Now, you get to see my bathroom.”

 

Cordelia snorts, but Misty gladly follows Violet into her bathroom, then back into the bedroom and out the door.

 

Next on Violet’s agenda is Cordelia’s room. It’s all white and grey, soft and classic, elegantly designed. Violet gives Misty a tour of the master bath and Cordelia’s walk-in closet, until finally the five-year-old is finished with the upstairs. The three of them head downstairs, Violet running first and the adults following behind, Misty’s hand on the small of Cordelia’s back.

 

On the main floor, they walk through the living room, kitchen, guest room, and Cordelia’s home office.

 

“Okay, Vi,” Cordelia says, “I think she’s seen it all. What do you say?”

 

“Well, we didn’t do the backyard,” Violet says, very matter-of-factly.

 

“It’s a little cold and a little dark outside for that, don’t you think?”

 

Violet considers this. “Yeah. Okay.” She looks at Misty. “Did you like the house, Miss Day?”

 

“I absolutely _loved_ it! I particularly loved my tour guide,” Misty assures her, making Violet giggle. “And, by the way, Vi, you don’t have to call me Miss Day outside of school. At least, unless you want to. Just Misty is okay.”

 

“Misty?”

 

“Yep, that’s my name!”

 

“That’s a pretty name.” Violet turns back to Cordelia. “Are we gonna eat dinner soon? ‘Cause I’m hungry.”

 

“Super soon,” Cordelia promises. “Miss — Misty,” she corrects, “is going to make tacos. Isn’t that fun?”

 

“I love tacos,” Violet tells Misty.

 

“So I’ve been told.”

 

It’s roughly half an hour later when they’re sitting down at the kitchen table to eat.

 

Misty had been a natural in Cordelia’s kitchen — quickly finding her way around and enchanting both Cordelia and Violet with the way she moved. She’d offered several preview tastes to the two of them,  allowing them bites of the chicken, the sauce, and the guacamole.

 

At one point, Cordelia had gotten a bit of avocado on her fingertips and, after making sure Violet wasn’t paying attention, made eye contact with Misty while pulling her fingers into her mouth to suck it off. Misty had stared so hard she almost burned the chicken.

 

Conversation over dinner is easy. Violet asks what Misty is doing for the holidays, and Misty tells her that she celebrates Christmas with a few friends every year. Cordelia, not for the first time, wants to tell her to come to Los Angeles, where they traditionally do Christmas every year with Fiona, but she knows it’s off the table.

 

They talk mostly about Violet — about her interests and her thoughts, which the five-year-old is more than happy to share. When Violet takes an over-enthusiastic bite that results in sauce dripping down her chin, Cordelia watches as Misty tenderly reaches over with her napkin to help Violet clean it. It makes her heart clench and she wonders just how bad it would be if she let herself imagine a world in which they could have this every night.

 

She and Misty hadn’t discussed their future together, as both of them were hesitant to initiate the conversation. Their plan to simply keep things quiet had been working too well to throw a wrench in it just quite yet. Cordelia knew that Misty was also being respectful of the fact that Cordelia wasn’t exactly out to anyone but her small circle of loved ones — and certainly not to Violet.

 

When they finish dinner, Cordelia insists on doing the dishes while Violet and Misty pick a movie. It barely takes one minute, because Violet is pulling for Frozen and Frozen only. Misty agrees, of course, so Cordelia rolls her eyes good-naturedly and tells them to queue it up. When she finishes cleaning, she grabs blankets from the cabinet she keeps them in. She lights the fireplace and walks towards the couch, where Violet has insisted on sitting next to Misty.

 

Cordelia sits on Misty’s other side, giving Violet her favorite blanket and throwing the other over herself and Misty. Their feet are propped up on the ottoman, but everything remains covered by the large blanket. In the dark of the room, once the movie has started, Misty reaches a hand under the blanket to hold Cordelia’s. Cordelia knows that Violet is solely focused on the movie, so she feels comfortable resting her head on Misty’s shoulder. Misty turns to press a quiet kiss to Cordelia’s hair, rubbing the back of Cordelia’s hand with her thumb as she does.

 

To Violet’s credit, she stays enthralled in the movie she’s seen at least 15 times for almost the entire thing. It isn’t until the last half hour or so that she begins to yawn. With no prefacing, a clearly sleepy Violet lies her head in Misty’s lap and curls her legs accordingly. Her eyes flutter shut a few moments later, and Cordelia lifts her head from Misty’s shoulder to see what her daughter had just done.

 

Misty grins, shrugging minimally enough not to disturb the sleeping child in her lap, and Cordelia looks at Misty in awe. Carefully, Misty pulls her hand out of Cordelia’s and wraps it around her shoulder. Cordelia brings her hand up to hold Misty’s that’s draped over her shoulder, and snuggles closer into her side. Misty, meanwhile, uses her free hand to drag gentle fingers through Violet’s soft blonde hair.

 

They stay like that, nestled together on the couch, until the movie has ended and Violet is sound asleep.

 

“Sweet thing,” Misty whispers towards Violet. She looks at Cordelia, who is using the remote to turn the TV off. “Want me to carry her?” She asks quietly.

 

“It's okay, I can do it,” Cordelia tells her.

 

“I don’t mind,” Misty says. “She’s tiny.”

 

Cordelia takes another look at Violet, so small and vulnerable in Misty’s lap, and she nods. “Okay.”

 

Slowly, Misty sits Violet up so that she can turn her to face her own chest. She hugs the five-year-old close as she rises from the couch, and Violet reaches her arms to hold around Misty’s neck in her sleep. Cordelia puts the fire out and then follows Misty up the stairs, where they enter Violet’s bedroom and get her tucked underneath the covers. Cordelia leans in to kiss her and whisper that she loves her, and then the women leave the room.

 

They’re quick to move to Cordelia’s bedroom, closing the door quietly behind them. They’ve been making love for about a month now and, while Cordelia is far from feeling like an expert, they’ve built a strong sense of trust and comfort that allows for more ease in the bedroom.

 

Misty gets Cordelia completely out of her clothes and underwear — and removes everything of her own — before getting Cordelia onto the bed and underneath her. She changes her mind after a minute of kissing, flipping over onto her back and pulling Cordelia to be on top.

 

She spreads Cordelia’s legs so that they’re straddling her stomach, and encourages her to inch closer and closer until Misty can finally loop her arms around Cordelia’s thighs.

 

When Misty stretches her tongue up to push inside of her while tightening her fingertips on the smooth skin of Cordelia’s thighs, Cordelia begins grinding down onto her face with reckless abandon.

 

Needing more attention on her clit, she moves one hand off of its place on the headboard to reach down. Misty brushes her hand away instantly.

 

“Uh-uh,” Misty says, steely blue eyes looking directly up into Cordelia’s desperate, brown ones. “You’re paying for that little move you pulled earlier in the kitchen.”

 

Cordelia grinds down again, meeting Misty’s chin, and remembers the look that Misty has given her after she’d stuck her fingers in her mouth “to get the avocado off.” She looks back down at Misty, who seems perfectly content to drag this out, and, groaning, settles her hand back to grip the headboard.

 

Two hours later, when they’re sweating and exhausted and Cordelia’s sheets are beyond repair, Misty rolls onto her side so that she can move Cordelia into a spooning position. She presses a kiss to the back of her neck, and Cordelia closes her eyes contently. She’s a thousand percent sure she could fall asleep exactly like this, both tonight and for the rest of her life.

 

“Don’t go,” Cordelia says, though she knows it’s unrealistic. Something about having sex with Misty always has her thinking on a completely different, more emotional level. If she thought she’d been needy for Misty’s touch and affection before sleeping with her, it was nothing compared to the post-coital feeling that always washed over Cordelia when they were finished. She was absolutely desperate for Misty’s touch, voice, and presence.

 

“I want you to stay,” Cordelia pleads.

 

Misty nuzzles her face in Cordelia’s neck. “That’s the orgasms talking, baby.”

 

“No, it’s not. I want you here.”

 

“I know you do,” Misty says. “And I want to be here. But we say that now, because we’re naked and tired and comfortable. When Violet’s up at the crack of dawn and this has to be explained, it won’t be so amazing.”

 

Cordelia sighs. She knows Misty is right, but it doesn’t make parting any easier. Misty kisses the shell of her ear. “I’ll stay for ten minutes, how about that?”

 

Cordelia nods, agreeing to the compromise, so Misty checks her watch for the time and then tucks her arm back across Cordelia’s stomach.

 

. . .

 

The winter break continues in much of the same pattern. Cordelia and Violet spend Christmas in Los Angeles at Fiona’s home, a tradition Cordelia had only agreed to upon Violet’s birth because Coco also spent the holiday there with her family. She always knew she had an out if she needed one, rather than being stranded at Fiona’s house if things went haywire.

 

On New Year’s Eve, Coco hosted her annual party at her home. Per usual, she had gone all out — hiring a catering company, a jazz trio, and a bartender — and decorated the entire house in theme.

 

Though it made her a bit nervous, Cordelia had invited Misty to the event. They hadn’t gotten to spend Christmas together, and she wanted to ring in the new year with the woman she was head over heels for. She had put Violet to sleep in Coco’s guest bedroom around 10, after the five-year-old had started to nod off. After that, she was able to enjoy the rest of the night on Misty’s arm — and she took advantage of it.

 

They’d spent the night hugging and kissing, drinking champagne, enjoying the live jazz, and talking to Coco and Will. Cordelia had decided that she very much liked him for her best friend, and she’d been thrilled that Coco felt the same about Misty.

 

As the clock counted down the lingering seconds of the year, Cordelia was wrapped in Misty’s arms, wearing ridiculous 2-0-1-9 glasses and giggling at Misty’s similarly goofy headband. Just before the clock struck 12, Misty had moved the glasses to the crown of Cordelia’s head so that she could look into her eyes as the New Year arrived.

 

At midnight, they’d shared a long, deep kiss — one that had Cordelia wanting to leave almost instantly, so that she and Misty could further celebrate the holiday in her own bed. When they finally parted, Misty had looked at Cordelia as if she were the only person in the room, and Cordelia was certain that she’d never been happier in her entire life.

 

The second week of January brings Violet’s first week back at school — and her first weekend spent with Hank of the new year. As usual, Cordelia goes to the school that Friday afternoon to see Violet off with Hank and make sure that everything is on the up-and-up.

 

They’re standing in the parking lot, Cordelia getting Violet buckled into her booster seat while Hank puts her duffel in the back, when Violet points to somewhere behind Cordelia.

 

“It’s Miss Day!” She says, and Cordelia turns around to see, surely enough, Misty walking towards Hank’s truck.

 

“Hi,” Misty says to Cordelia and Hank. “Sorry to interrupt, but Violet forgot her scarf in the classroom.”

 

She hands the item to Cordelia, who thanks her, as does Hank.

 

“Miss Day,” Violet says from her seat, “I won’t get to see you this weekend, ‘cause I’m at my Daddy’s house. So I’ll see you on Monday!”

 

Cordelia feels a wave of nausea and looks immediately at Hank, who is wearing a confused look on his face. Misty quickly bids the three of them goodbye, and leaves them to return to her classroom.

 

Hank is getting into the driver’s seat, seemingly not wanting to ask about what had just happened, so Cordelia kisses Violet’s cheek. She won’t dare mention to Violet not to tell Hank anything — not with Hank right there listening, and certainly not if it will make Violet too curious or uncomfortable about her and Misty’s relationship.

 

“Bye, sweetheart. I love you. I’ll call tonight, okay?”

 

“Okay. Love you, too, Mama.”

 

Cordelia spends most of the weekend worrying about what Violet had said in front of her father. For the first time in her life, she had been actually looking forward to Violet’s brief absence, if only so that she and Misty could spend the entire weekend together. They’d made plans to cook dinners, check out a new jazz band downtown, and spend a good chunk of time not leaving Misty’s bed.

 

Saturday and Sunday mornings mark the first times that they get to wake up next to each other, and it’s even better than Cordelia could have imagined. To be able to sleep and wake in a cocoon of Misty’s embrace was something she would never take for granted, but she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that just simply wouldn’t leave her.

 

It’s late Sunday morning when she finally addresses the elephant in the room. They’re still in bed, Cordelia draped over Misty’s chest as she listens to the sound of her heartbeat. They had made love for hours last night, and continued in the morning, and Cordelia hates herself for opening the conversation they’d both been dreading and ruining the mood.

 

“I’m scared, Mist,” she says simply.

 

Misty’s arm tightens around her back. “I know, baby. Me, too.”

 

“Maybe I should have told him about us. And that I was inviting you to the house.”

 

“I don’t know,” Misty sighs. “That may have ended poorly; you don’t know how he’d react.”

 

Cordelia thinks for a few moments. “If he picks up on… us, he could try to use it against me at the hearing next week.”

 

“Let’s not jump to any conclusions.” Misty kisses the top of her head. “You don’t know what he thinks. For all we know, he brushed Violet’s comment off as a random, kid thing.”

 

“I should have told her not to say anything,” Cordelia says, voice shaking. “I told her not to mention it to kids at school, but that was on the pretense that they might get sad that their teacher wasn’t coming to their house, too. She understood that. I couldn’t imagine that she’d say anything in front of Hank. I guess that was stupid.”

 

“It’s not stupid,” Misty tells her. “You were protecting her.” She tucks a piece of Cordelia’s behind her ear and presses her lips to her forehead. “There’s nothing you can do about it right now, anyways. Let me make you breakfast, and then I’ll take you home.”

 

Cordelia nods, so they eventually get up together and make their way into the kitchen, Cordelia borrowing the robe of Misty’s that she’d been using this weekend.

 

She is, at least, able to enjoy breakfast. Misty makes a phenomenal French Toast, drenching it in syrup and using powdered sugar and chopped strawberries and bananas as toppings. They’re both sticky by the end of the meal, so when Misty suggests a shower, Cordelia doesn’t disagree.

 

She lifts Cordelia from her chair, picking her up bridal-style and making her giggle. Before moving to walk to the bathroom, Misty dips down to kiss Cordelia’s lips and cheek.

 

“You may be sticky,” she says, “but you taste damn good.”

 

Cordelia grins. “I’ll let you have a better taste once we’re in the shower.”

 

. . .

 

Hank comes by with Violet around 4PM that afternoon. After he’s unbuckled Violet from her booster seat and hugged her goodbye, he doesn’t get immediately back into the car.

 

Cordelia hugs and kisses Violet, and sends her inside to start putting away the toys she’d brought with her back in her room as she walks out to meet Hank.

 

“I need to talk to you,” he says, once the front door of Cordelia’s house is closed.

 

“Okay.” Cordelia folds her arms across her chest, more in a gesture to keep warm than to seem closed off. “Is it going to take long? It’s freezing out here.”

 

“No,” Hank says. He lets out a puff of air, his breath visible in the cold. “What did Violet mean on Friday? About seeing her teacher on the weekend?”

 

Cordelia allows herself a moment before giving him the line she’d rehearsed. “Misty came to the house a couple of weeks ago for dinner. She and I are friends.”

 

“Is that it? Just friends?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Really? Because that’s not what Violet seemed to think.”

 

“Violet — what — Hank, what the hell are you talking about? Violet knows that Misty and I are friends.”

 

“Well, I asked her—“

 

“Asked her what? What are you, interrogating our child about my life now?”

 

“Oh, like that’s not what you do every single time I drop her off after she’s been with me?” Hank spits. “Don’t act all high and mighty, Cordelia—“

 

“Can you keep your voice down?” Cordelia asks angrily. “Violet is inside.”

 

“I asked Violet what she meant that day in the car. She said her teacher has been over to the house quite a few times, and that she _spent New Year’s Eve_ with the two of you.” Cordelia tries desperately not to let any emotion show on her face. She can’t let Hank know how nervous she is. “Now, I don’t know about you, but if I’m inviting someone to my best friend’s New Year’s Eve party, it’s not because we’re just good pals.”

 

Cordelia doesn’t speak, so he continues.

 

“First, you tell me I’m not allowed to bring women over to the house when I have Violet. Then, you not only do the same thing behind my back, and don’t tell me about it?” Hank asks incredulously. “You’re clearly in a relationship with this, this _woman_.”

 

Cordelia curls her cold fingers into fists, but she knows she can’t afford to lose her temper. “Violet does not know about us.”

 

“So there is an us? You’re dating a woman?”

 

“Yes,” Cordelia admits. “I am. But as far as Violet knows, her teacher — who she loves — is just spending a little bit of time at our house. And that’s only been a few times. Otherwise, she’s home with my sitter and Misty and I are out.”

 

“So, you’re leaving our daughter to be with her? Jesus, Cordelia, isn’t it enough that you’re already a workaholic?”

 

Cordelia gapes. “What am I supposed to do, Hank? Never date? Never leave my house?”

 

“It’s worked pretty well for you for the last four years.”

 

She wants to smack him.

 

“Oh, so I should just bring every suitor over to the house for them to meet Violet, like you do? Because I tried that with Misty, and you’re still pissed.”

 

“I’m pissed because you didn’t tell me you were seeing her — and you didn’t tell me you were a lesbian!”

 

“I’m not — Hank, please. Please, be rational.”

 

“I am being perfectly rational. Violet’s my daughter, and I don’t want her around that kind of behavior.”

 

Cordelia’s blood turns to ice. She almost asks Hank to repeat himself, so that she can be certain that he hadn’t just said what she thinks he’d said.

 

“What kind of behavior, Hank?”

 

“You know what I’m talking about, Cordelia. You being — gay,” he sputters. “It’s bizarre, and it will confuse Violet.”

 

A million thoughts are racing through Cordelia’s head, but her voice is stuck and she can’t land on anything to say.

 

“I don’t like it,” Hank continues. “And as long as I still have joint legal custody, I have a say in the environment that Violet’s being raised in.”

 

“Are you kidding me with this? Hank, you are a lot of things, but I have never known you to be homophobic.”

 

Hank shakes his head, refusing to make eye contact.

 

“You’re really going to do this to me?” Cordelia demands.

 

Finally, Hank looks at her.

 

“Call off the hearing. We’ll keep the custody the way it is, and I won’t say anything about you and the teacher.”

 

Cordelia’s mouth falls open. Her eyebrows converge and she stares at him in horror. She doesn’t know how much time passes before she finds her voice.

 

“You don’t care that I’m with Misty,” she says, still in disbelief. “You’re just afraid to lose Violet because you’re a shit parent. If you really hated the environment she was growing up in, you’d _want_ the hearing to try to take Violet out of it.”

 

“Well, you can’t prove that to anyone, can you?”

 

“You are unbelievable. I knew you could be an asshole, but this really takes the cake.”

 

“It’s not just me. This could end badly for a bunch of different reasons. I mean, Christ, Cordelia, does the school know? Maybe if you wanted to be a lesbian with Violet’s teacher, you shouldn’t have paid for a fancy, private Christian school. I can’t imagine they’d be cool with the dyke teacher dating a student’s mom.”

 

Now Cordelia really does slap him. She even surprises herself with it, and she knows it’s a mistake as soon as she does it, but she can’t bring herself to regret it. Hank seems just as shocked as Cordelia does; she hasn’t hit him like that since the day she found a pair of women’s panties in his gym bag five years ago.

 

Hank rubs at his cheek before stuffing his hand back into his jacket pocket.

 

“If you want to keep the hearing for next week, that’s fine with me,” he says, opening the door to his truck. “But I’d rather not get into all of this and just leave things the way they are.” He shrugs. “Let me know what you decide to do.”

 

He pulls away, leaving Cordelia standing there in the driveway. Her world is spinning, and it takes everything she’s got not to instantly break down in tears as she walks back towards the house.

 

By some miracle, she manages to keep it together for the time that it takes to get Violet bathed, fed, and put to sleep. When she finally goes back downstairs, she heads to the laundry room to wash Violet’s clothes from the weekend.

 

She goes through the duffle bag, picking up and smelling each item for the stench of cigarettes, but detects nothing.

 

She slides slowly down the wall and, using Violet’s tiny pink shirt to muffle a scream, lets herself sob on the laundry room floor.

 

After fifteen minutes, she grabs her phone from the back of her jean pocket and pulls up her text conversation with Misty.

 

 

_Outgoing, 7:54pm_

Can I call you?

 


	12. When the Night is New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from I’ll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday.

It’s Wednesday afternoon when Cordelia sees that Fiona is calling on her cell phone. She’s just gotten out of an exhausting, two-hour meeting for the Duke Energy case, and the last thing she wants to do is talk to Fiona. She ignores the call and, letting her face fall into her hands, takes a moment to breathe deeply and avoid crying.

 

Usually, in the midst of a long and stressful day at work, she would text Misty. Misty could always reply with something funny, something romantic, or something that put the entire situation into perspective.

 

The fact that she can’t do that now makes the odds of crying a thousand times more likely.

 

Fiona calls for the second time in a row, so Cordelia grabs her phone and taps to answer.

 

“What, Mother?”

 

“Jesus. Hello to you, too, Delia.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

Fiona scoffs. “This is clearly a bad time; why would you pick up the phone?”

 

“It’s not a bad—” Cordelia pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “I’m sorry. What’s going on?”

 

“I was calling to find out the exact date of the hearing next week,” Fiona says. “I want to be there.”

 

Dread seeps into Cordelia’s bones at the question. This would not be an easy conversation.

 

She had, of course, weighed all of her options. Poured over them for hours.

 

She could call off the hearing and stay with Misty, but she wouldn’t ever get full custody of Violet. Hank would, surely, use this as leverage for as long as she remained in a relationship with her.

 

She could end things with Misty and keep the hearing, but Hank could still use the history of the relationship against her. She also doesn’t know what the school would say, were they to find out about the parent-teacher relationship.

 

What she realized was certain:

 

She would have to both cancel the hearing _and_ break things off with Misty, in order to keep her current custody of Violet safe.

 

If she wanted to try again for full custody later on in the year, it would have been months from when her relationship with Misty ended, and Hank would have no grounds to bring it up in court.

 

Fiona Goode, however, has never been one to think as rationally as her daughter.

 

“The hearing was… postponed,” Cordelia says.

 

“What? What do you mean, postponed? Why?”

 

Cordelia pauses. “I cancelled it.”

 

“You _what_?”

 

“I cancelled the hearing. It’s not happening. I’m sorry — I know you’re disappointed. Believe me, I am, too. Beyond,” she adds.

 

It takes Fiona a few seconds, but she eventually asks what Cordelia knew she’d catch onto.

 

“Did Hank do something?”

 

Cordelia doesn’t answer.

 

“I swear to god, Delia, I should have killed him years ago.”

 

“Mother, stop. It was my fault. He — He found out about me and Misty. He threatened to use it against me in court.”

 

“To use what against you, exactly?”

 

Cordelia hears the anger in her mother’s voice, but there’s no sense in lying now. She tries, and almost succeeds, in keeping any quivering out of her own.

 

“He said, correctly, that — as long as he has joint legal custody of Violet — he has a say in her upbringing. That means morality, religion… anything that falls into that bucket.”

 

Fiona is seething now. “He threatened you because you’re in a relationship with a woman?”

 

“ _Was_ in a relationship with a woman,” Cordelia corrects her miserably. Her eyes well with tears that she tries desperately to blink back. “I ended things with Misty.”

 

“So,” Fiona fumes, “now you’re back to being single and depressed, _and_ you’re not getting full custody of Violet?”

 

“Yes, Mother. Thank you for putting it so eloquently.”

 

Fiona doesn’t say anything for a minute, but then she’s exploding.

 

“ _I told you_ when I was at that school that you had better be careful!” She shouts. “This hearing was your chance — you had all of the odds in your favor to get Violet permanently and not have to deal with the imbecile you married! Now my granddaughter will be stuck with that reprehensible excuse for a man because you couldn’t keep your private life private?”

 

Cordelia feels tears beginning to roll down her cheeks, but she covers her mouth with one hand so that Fiona doesn’t dare hear her falling apart.

 

“You should never have put yourself in this position to begin with,” Fiona yells. “If you wanted to do something as risky as dating Violet’s teacher, you should have done it _after_ the hearing! Jesus — what the hell is wrong with you?”

 

“I am not going to listen to you scream at me for this,” Cordelia says, finally ending Fiona’s tirade. “I did not mean for any of this to happen, but I had to make the choice that I felt was best for Violet, and that was to call off the hearing for the time being. If you don’t think that this is the most devastating thing in my life right now, then you know me even less than you think you do. And that, already, isn’t saying much. So back the hell off of me. Goodbye, Fiona.”

 

Cordelia ends the call and, dropping her phone back on her desk, hangs her head in defeat. She lets herself cry for a few minutes, but then forces herself to stop so that her face won’t be red and puffy when she goes to get Violet from school.

 

She’d done the drop-off on Monday morning, the first time since calling Misty to end things on Sunday night, and it had been downright miserable. Cordelia had barely been able to look at Misty without breaking down in tears, and Misty had looked just as sorrowful.

 

She’d had Coco pick Violet up on both Monday and Tuesday, simply because she couldn’t stop crying at the thought of having to see Misty, but she’s determined to do it herself today.

 

She goes to the bathroom before leaving work so that she can do a check in a mirror with good lighting. After making sure that her eyes aren’t too puffy and her makeup is still in-tact, she heads to school pick-up.

 

When she arrives outside of Violet’s classroom, her eyes are immediately drawn to Misty, who is facing her class and not the door. Cordelia takes one look at her blonde curls and the rings that decorate her fingers and she darts her eyes away. She scans the room for Violet and, finally seeing her, waves her over.

 

Misty’s eyes seem to follow Violet’s gaze, so she bends down for a goodbye hug from her student. Instead of walking Violet to the door as she normally would, she lets her skip over to Cordelia by herself.

 

Over Violet’s head, they make brief eye contact across the room. Cordelia knows she must look horribly sad, because the small smile that Misty offers is so soft and sympathetic.

 

She’s thankful when Violet finally reaches her, so that Cordelia can swing her into her arms and leave.

 

The next few weeks unfold in the same way. Cordelia throws herself into the Duke case, forcing herself to have ultra-focus so that she doesn’t get sidetracked and start to think (read: cry) about missing Misty. She picks up and drops off Violet at school every day, trying to avoid Misty as much as possible in the process, while also trying to make sure that Violet doesn’t pick up on any tension between her mother and teacher.

 

She tells Marie, because there could only been so many times the first week after the break-up that Cordelia could get away with red-rimmed eyes or temporary staring into space around the other woman. Marie had hugged her and promised that everything would work out the way it was supposed to, but it didn’t help Cordelia feel any less awful.

 

Coco, for her part, had done everything in her power to take Cordelia’s mind off of Misty. She’d planned spa days, movie nights, and, a few times now, nights with a couple of bottles of wine, so that Cordelia could cry it out to her and get some release.

 

Just before Valentine’s Day, Cordelia gets another call from Fiona — her first since Fiona had initially berated her daughter. Reluctantly, she picks up the phone.

 

“Delia?”

 

“Yes, Mother?”

 

“Reschedule the hearing.”

 

“I don’t have time for this,” Cordelia says immediately, and hangs up. She ignores Fiona’s next two calls, as well as the texts she sends asking Cordelia to call her back.

 

Coco plans a “Galentine’s Day” night, something Cordelia feels guilty about because she knows Coco would rather be spending it with Will. Despite her telling her best friend that she should be with her boyfriend, Coco refuses and makes her call Zoe so that Cordelia can have the night off.

 

She takes an Uber to Coco’s house, knowing full well what Coco has in mind for the night. Sure enough, Coco had set out an array of red wines and pints of ice cream for her best friend to choose from.

 

“Wow, Co,” Cordelia laughs, then sobers as she looks at the other woman. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

 

“You’ve done this for me a million times,” Coco reminds her, and brings her in for a hug. “I love you. Life sucks right now, but everything is going to be okay.”

 

“I don’t know about that, but I appreciate it anyway.” Cordelia pulls away and squeezes Coco’s hand before walking over to the selection of wine. She picks a Cabernet to open and pours two large glasses, and she and Coco move to get comfortable on the couch.

 

They make small talk about their weeks at work until they reach the last two glasses in the bottle.

 

“What did Will say when you told him you were refusing to do Valentine’s Day with him?” Cordelia asks.

 

Coco rolls her eyes. “He was totally understanding. He doesn’t care; we’ll do something this weekend.”

 

“He probably thinks I’m pathetic,” Cordelia says into his wine glass. “Which, I am.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Coco tells her, not for the first time. “You are not pathetic. You’re getting over a break-up with someone you were crazy about. If you weren’t depressed, you’d be a sociopath.”

 

“We were only — whatever we were, for, like, three months. That’s nothing.”

 

“Yeah, and in those three months, you fell in love with her.”

 

Cordelia snaps her head up to look at Coco, who holds Cordelia’s gaze confidently, as if she’s daring Cordelia to deny it.

 

“There’s no shame in that,” Coco says softly. “She loved you, too. God, I could see that when I met her at the school when you weren’t even there.”

 

Cordelia’s eyes begin to water and Coco backtracks. “I’m sorry. Shit. Let’s not talk about it.”

 

“It’s okay,” Cordelia says, quickly wiping her eyes. “You’re right. I was in love with her. I _am_ in love with her. I don’t know that I’ll ever not be.”

 

Coco reaches the hand that’s not holding her wine glass over to hold Cordelia’s. “I’m sorry, babe.”

 

“No, I’m sorry.” Cordelia sniffles and briefly takes her hand out of Coco’s to brush away more tears. “This is the shittiest Galentine’s Day ever, thanks to me.”

 

“Hey,” Coco says, “how many times have you sat there and listened to me cried over god-knows-what loser I dated? And, besides, Misty is someone worth crying over.”

 

Cordelia nods and takes a sip of her glass. “Violet asked me why she hadn’t been over to the house lately, and if she’d be coming over again soon.”

 

Coco frowns. “What did you say?”

 

“That she wouldn’t be. She asked why and I couldn’t make up anything good enough, so I just said she was busy.”

 

“It’ll get easier,” Coco offers. “One day, Cords, she’s going to know that you did all of this for her. All of this heartache will be worth it when you get sole custody of Vi.”

 

“I know, and that’s why I feel so guilty,” Cordelia says. “ _I know_ it’s all for Vi, and I still wish Misty and I could be together.” She pauses and drags a fingertip under each eye to clear any makeup that her crying may have smeared. “This is going to sound so stupid—”

 

“Nothing you say is stupid; you’re the smartest person I know.”

 

“Trust me, this is,” Cordelia sniffles. “It hit me a few days ago that this would have been the first time in almost five years that I’d have someone to spend Valentine’s Day with. Do you know how lonely and pathetic that feels?”

 

Coco stares at Cordelia blankly for a few seconds, and then sighs, defeated. “I think we need to open another bottle.”

 

This gets a genuine laugh out of Cordelia, who nods her agreement and waits for Coco to come back from the kitchen. As soon as the sound has come out of her body, she feels the sadness immediately return, seeping into her heart to retain its residence there.

  
_How long will that take to leave?_

 

. . .

 

By a week after Valentine’s Day, Cordelia is beginning to patch herself up enough to function normally. She’s stopped crying herself to sleep every night, her midday tears have mostly stopped, and her anxiety about seeing Misty at school pick-up and drop-off gets a bit more manageable with each passing day.

 

She’s coming back to her office from a morning meeting when she sees that the school is calling on her cell phone. She briefly tries to remember if there’s a chance she’d forgotten Violet’s lunch, as was the situation the last time she received a call, but brushes the thought away as she taps to answer.

 

“This is Cordelia Goode.”

 

“Ms. Goode, this is Patricia from the front office at St. Martin’s. I’m afraid there’s been an incident.”

 

After that, Cordelia hears everything she says in simultaneous slow motion and acceleration. She hears someone clicking in on the other line, and barely has time to see that it’s Misty before declining it.

 

_Violet. Peanut M &M cookie. Epipen. Miss Day. Ambulance. New Orleans Children’s Hospital._

 

It’s all she registers before blindly grabbing her bag off of its hook and rushing out of her office. After she’s hung up the call, she feels her phone in her hand vibrating with text messages, but it doesn’t occur to her once to look. The next thing she knows, she’s in her car and screaming at her Bluetooth GPS to direct her to the hospital Patricia had mentioned.

 

Misty calls again. This time it comes through her car system, and Cordelia answers in a panic.

 

“Misty?”

 

“We just got to the hospital. They said she’s in anaphylactic shock.” Cordelia can hear her despite the loud background noises that Misty’s talking over, and she runs the next red light. “They gave her epinephrine in the ambulance and they’re helping her breathe. She’s breathing. Right now, she’s fine. I’m so sorry, Cordelia. I’m so sorry—”

 

“I’ll be there in less than ten minutes,” Cordelia interrupts her. She tries not to sound hysterical. “Will you please, just—”

 

“I’m not leaving her side,” Misty says. “I’ll be right here.”

 

Cordelia breaks about ten more laws in the seven minutes it takes her to get to the New Orleans Children’s Hospital. She parks haphazardly and runs into the emergency room, where she frantically finds the first person in scrubs that she sees.

 

“Excuse me! My daughter is Violet Foxx. She came in for an allergic reaction. I need—”

 

“Okay,” the young man nods, and grabs a chart from the front desk area. “Violet Foxx, five years old?”

 

“Yes,” Cordelia bursts.

 

“Right this way, ma’am.”

 

Cordelia follows him down two hallways until she finally gets to Violet’s room.

 

Violet is laying in the hospital bed, looking small enough to make Cordelia’s heart ache just from how the bed seems to swallow her. Cordelia looks quickly between Violet’s closed eyes, the breathing tube set up over her nose and mouth, and the IV connected to her tiny, fragile arm — and she instantly begins to cry.

 

Misty is sitting in a chair next to the bed, her hand in Violet’s as she sleeps, and she rises when Cordelia enters the room.

 

Cordelia rushes to the bed, gently hugging and kissing Violet before looking up at Misty.

 

“Is she—” Cordelia’s chest heaves. She can hear the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor behind her, but she keeps her eyes on Misty.

 

“She’s fine,” Misty nods. “She’s okay. They hooked her up to an IV to give her more epinephrine, and the ventilator is just to make sure she’s getting enough oxygen. She’s fine — just asleep.” Misty releases Violet’s hand and moves around the bed. “I’ll go get the doctor—”

 

“Misty,” Cordelia cuts her off with a crushing hug, and it takes a few seconds for either of them to realize that Cordelia is sobbing.

 

Misty holds her without question, running ringed fingers through Cordelia’s hair. “It’s okay,” she soothes. “Violet’s okay.”

 

Cordelia would rather die than leave Misty’s arms, but she knows that there are plenty of reasons why she needs to pull away — the first being that the school, by law, would have had to call Hank, so he is probably on his way. Him walking into this scene is, perhaps, the only thing that could make Cordelia’s day even worse.

 

“What happened?” Cordelia asks, finally moving back to stand on her own. “The school called, but—” She shakes her head.

 

“The bake sale had M&M cookies. Whoever brought them, they labeled them as M&Ms — not Peanut M&Ms. Violet took one bite and her face went red, and I just knew.”

 

Cordelia’s lips are still quivering. She blinks, and more tears fall. “Thank you, Misty. I don’t know what to say, I just—”

 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Misty shakes her head. Tentatively, she reaches out both hands to hold either side of Cordelia’s arms. “I don’t want to leave you here alone. Can you call Coco, or—”

 

“I will,” Cordelia promises. “Hank will be here soon, I’m sure,” she says, averting Misty’s gaze. The words are bitter on her tongue and Misty nods knowingly. She drops her arms back to her side.

 

“I’ll tell the doctor you’re here on my way out.” She looks at Violet, and then back to Cordelia. “Give her my love?”

 

“I will.” Cordelia grabs Misty’s hand tightly. “Thank you. Thank you so much." She swallows. "I'm so s—”

 

"I know."

 

Misty nods and, giving Cordelia’s hand a squeeze, detaches and leaves the hospital room.


	13. Can You Tell Me, Was it Worth it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac.

A minute after Misty’s gone, the doctor assigned to Violet’s case comes to give Cordelia a run-down of what she mostly already knows.

 

She assures her that, thanks to her teacher’s quick thinking and action, Violet was able to get enough epinephrine in her system soon enough after the allergen entered her body to avoid a life-threatening situation. She explains that she’ll receive one more dosage of the drug to ensure that there are no after-effects, and that the ventilator can come off as soon as Violet wakes.

 

Hank arrives almost half an hour later, looking completely flustered and clearly out of breath. Cordelia is sitting next to Violet in the chair Misty had first inhabited, holding her daughter’s hand and gently rubbing her thumb against Violet’s skin.

 

“How is she?” Hank asks. He moves immediately to kiss Violet’s forehead, and Cordelia flinches, refusing to make eye contact with him. “The school said something about a cookie?”

 

“She accidentally ate one that had peanuts,” Cordelia says coldly. “Misty is the one who noticed and gave her a shot of her epipen.” She stares up at Hank now, wanting to look him in the eye. “The _dyke teacher_ saved my child’s life. It’s because of her that Violet is alive.”

 

Cordelia can tell from the shadow of guilt that passes over Hank’s face that he’d picked up on both her spitting his hateful slur back in his face and her use of the singular pronoun when describing Violet.

 

She looks back at Violet, un-wanting and unwilling to look at Hank’s face anymore, and brings their joint hands up to kiss the back of her child’s.

 

“Is she going to be okay?”

 

“Yes. Thanks to her teacher,” Cordelia reiterates without looking at him.

 

“I want to stay until she wakes up.”

 

She can hear the worry in his voice, and she waits for the rest of his sentence.

 

“I just can’t take that long off of work.”

 

Cordelia doesn’t reply, so Hank speaks again. “I just want you to know that I want to stay. I would, if I could.”

 

“I don’t give a damn what you want, and I certainly couldn’t care less about what you do,” Cordelia says, keeping her eyes on Violet and her voice low.

 

Hank bends down to kiss Violet again, and then, standing up straight again, offers a mumbled apology before leaving the room completely.

 

It’s another hour before Violet wakes up, eyes blinking open in confusion.

 

Cordelia moves immediately to sit on the bed. She hits the Call button and frames Violet’s face in her hands.

 

“Hi, sweetheart.” Cordelia’s eyes well again with tears. “Hi, my love.  I’m right here — Mommy’s right here. Everything is okay.” She kisses Violet’s head. “I called for the nurse, and she’s going to take this little thing on your face off, okay?”

 

Violet nods, eyes heavy, and Cordelia watches the door for ten seconds that feel like an eternity for the nurse who had been checking on Violet to appear.

 

“Look who’s awake,” the nurse, Annie, says softly. Carefully, she removes the ventilator that had been taking up most of Violet’s small face and looks down at her patient. “You feeling okay?”

 

Violet looks at Cordelia. “Mama?” She croaks, and Cordelia thinks she could die in relief on the spot.

 

She smiles and quickly uses the back of her hand to wipe the tears on both sides of her face. “Yes, angel?”

 

“Can I have water?”

 

Cordelia looks at Annie for confirmation, and the nurse nods. “The more, the better,” she says. “I’ll go and fetch you some.”

 

When the nurse reappears with a cup of water and a straw, Cordelia helps Violet to angle it and sip.

 

“Mama,” Violet says, releasing the straw from her lips, “I want Bunny.”

 

“We’re going to go home soon,” Cordelia promises, “and then you and me and Bunny will all snuggle in bed together until you feel all better, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Violet blinks. “I’m sorry I ate the cookie, Mama.”

 

“No, no,” Cordelia says, kissing Violet’s face, “don’t be sorry, angel. You didn’t know they were Peanut M&Ms.” _And I’m going to personally murder whoever didn’t clarify to you._ “You didn’t do anything wrong, my love. Everything’s okay.”

 

Violet nods, accepting this, and drifts off to sleep again.

 

Cordelia stays home for the rest of the week with her, working from her bed or Violet’s bed, depending on where the five-year-old wanted to be, or her home office, if Violet was playing or watching TV downstairs. While Violet’s been fine since the morning after her allergy attack, Cordelia won’t take any chances and insists on monitoring her for two more days. Between Cordelia’s coddling, Fiona sending flowers to the house, and Coco coming by regularly with new toys and ice cream, Violet is living in the lap of luxury.

 

On Friday afternoon, Violet is napping in her bedroom when Fiona calls.

 

“Hi, Mother,” Cordelia says, settling back against the couch cushions.

 

“Hello, Delia. How’s my granddaughter?”

 

“Doing just fine. Sorry if you called to talk to her; she’s taking a nap right now.”

 

“That’s fine,” Fiona says. “I called for you. Did you reschedule the custody hearing?”

 

Cordelia rolls her eyes. “No. Why would I have done that?”

 

“Because I called you weeks ago and told you to. You didn’t do it?”

 

“This may come as a surprise to you, Mother, but I do not have to do everything you tell me to. I’m an adult. I have no reason to reschedule the hearing until at least six months after Misty and I ended things.” Her heart seizes at mentioning Misty, but Fiona distracts.

 

“You need to reschedule it. Now.”

 

“Why on earth would I do that?”

 

“Can’t you just trust me?” Fiona asks. “Have I ever let you down?”

 

Cordelia furrows her eyebrows, though she knows her mother can’t see her. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

 

“Delia, for the love of god, just reschedule it. I don’t have time for your boring questions. I’m coming into town tomorrow. I’ll come by the house and explain.”

 

With that, Fiona ends the call, leaving Cordelia thoroughly annoyed and confused. This has always been one of her biggest problems with Fiona — that her mother barks orders at any and everyone and expects them to follow through blindly. Cordelia already embarrassed herself by having to call the DA to tell him, without much explanation, that she no longer wanted the hearing; she’s not about to request it again without good reason.

 

Fiona arrives at the house early Saturday evening, just as Cordelia is getting Violet into bed. Her presence completely throws off bedtime, as Violet is ecstatic to see her grandmother and Fiona, of course, had come bearing gifts.

 

When Cordelia finally manages to get her to sleep, she returns downstairs to see Fiona standing at the kitchen table.

 

“Can I smoke, now that she’s asleep?”

 

“Not inside the house,” Cordelia says, not for the first time.

 

Fiona rolls her eyes. “Did you reschedule the hearing?”

 

“What is with you?” Cordelia asks incredulously. “How many times do I have to tell you that I am not moving forward with this hearing until the end of summer?”

 

“I thought you might say that,” Fiona tuts, “so I called Marie.”

 

“You what?”

 

Fiona hums. “She said she’d call the DA and give him a heads up that the hearing request would be re-submitted.”

 

Cordelia gapes, feeling the rage of betrayal fill up inside her. She can’t possibly imagine why Marie would follow Fiona off her cliff behind Cordelia’s back.

 

“She did it,” Fiona says, “when I showed her this.” She pulls a manila envelope out of her black bag, offering it out to Cordelia, who snatches it out of her mother’s hand.

 

Jaw clenched with anger and annoyance, she opens the envelope and pulls out at least twenty different photographs, printed in large, 8 inch by 10 inch size. She shuffles through them, mouth slowly opening in surprise with each one once she realizes what they are.

 

“There are thirteen different women in those photos,” Fiona says. “In the last six weeks, your ex-husband has fucked thirteen different women. Notice the date on the bottom of each picture. Five of these were taken while he had Violet for the weekend.”

 

Cordelia gets to the later photos, which show Hank both in his car and through the window of his bedroom.

 

“He also keeps a handgun or two around, unlocked. One in the glove box of his car; one in his nightstand drawer. The P.I. saw him with them multiple times.”

 

Fiona waits a few minutes for Cordelia to go through each photo again.

 

“Hank’s only dispute against you is that he supposedly doesn’t want his child being raised in _an immoral home_.” The way Fiona says the phrase assures Cordelia that Fiona, herself, doesn’t think of her relationship with Misty as such. “Seems like a pretty tough case to make when you’re fucking every woman in New Orleans, especially with your daughter in the house.”

 

Cordelia is still speechless, so Fiona continues.

 

“Marie seemed to think that that was enough to ruin him, but when she saw the gun, she hung up on me to call the DA.”

 

“Mother, I… I don’t know what to say.” Cordelia sets the photos down on the table. “Thank you. Thank you for doing this.” She surprises both of them by stepping towards Fiona to hug her.

 

“You think I was going to let my granddaughter spend any more time with that dog shit excuse of a human being?” Fiona asks, releasing Cordelia. “And change her name, after this mess is over with. She’s a Goode.”

 

. . .

 

“I’m sorry if I was out of line.”

 

Marie huffs out a breath and shakes her head as she stares at her colleague. “Really, Cordelia, I am. Fiona called me late Friday afternoon, and I knew that John always leaves at 5:00 on the dot. I couldn’t risk not catching him before he left to see if he could at least get you back on the judge’s docket.”

 

Cordelia nods. “I understand. I would have appreciated being asked first, but I know I had to see the pictures before I moved forward with it.” She swallows. “I’m glad you did what you did. I called him this morning and I was able to get a spot in three weeks.”

 

Marie’s eyes snap up to Cordelia’s at that. “Three weeks?”

 

Cordelia smiles. “Three weeks.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Marie marvels. “I guess he likes us even more than I thought.”

 

Cordelia laughs at that. “I guess so. Thank you again, Marie.”

 

Hank calls, presumably as soon as he’s been re-notified by the district attorney that his presence is requested at the custody hearing. Cordelia’s face has never looked more smug than when she answers the call from her desk.

 

“So, this is how you want to play it?” Hank asks.

 

“I’m not going to let you bully me into letting you keep custody of Violet,” Cordelia says simply. “Not when I decided long ago to not tolerate a single second more of your bullshit.”

 

“You’re going to regret this, Cordelia.”

 

“I’ll see you in court.”

 

. . .

 

Cordelia spends every free moment of the next three weeks working on her case. She goes over it hundreds of times — with Coco, with Marie, and with herself.

 

She knows that there are a few hurdles that she’ll have to get over, ones that she can’t exactly prepare for:

 

If the judge is conservative — or just an asshole — he may be inclined to say that homosexual activity is equivalent to Hank’s promiscuity, thereby cancelling the two out.

 

If anyone questions the school’s opinion on Cordelia and Misty’s relationship, she won’t be able to defend it; she only knows that the school is accepting of Misty’s identity as a lesbian, not of her behavior with a student’s parent.

 

And, if she can’t actually prove that Hank has ever directly put Violet in danger, the judge may say that Cordelia doesn’t have the right to ask for him to completely lose custody.

 

Two days before the hearing, she’s running late to pick up Violet from school, having gotten stuck in a meeting with her client at Duke Energy. She rushes through the Lower School campus of St. Martin’s, finally arriving to Violet’s classroom nearly fifteen minutes behind schedule.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she says as she steps into the doorway. Misty and Violet both look unbothered as they sit, reading together on a bean bag.

 

“Hi, Mama!” Violet says, and gets up to gather her things.

 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Cordelia says to Misty, once she has come to the doorway.

 

“Don’t be. She’s still my favorite, remember?” Misty teases, but Cordelia only smiles nervously. “Is everything okay?”

 

“Yes,” Cordelia says, too quickly. “Sorry, yes. Everything is fine.” She pauses, trying to decide how much is appropriate to share with Misty. _Oh, what the hell._ “I re-requested a custody hearing. It’s on Friday.”

 

Misty’s eyebrows fly to the top of her head. “Holy shit,” she says quietly. “That’s — that’s great, right? That’s… what you want?”

 

“Yes,” Cordelia nods. “It’s what I want.”

 

“I’m ready, Mama!” Violet hops towards her mother and eventually jumps into Cordelia’s arms.

 

Cordelia kisses her cheek and offers Misty a small smile.

 

“I’m ready, too, baby.”


	14. I'm Getting Older, Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Landslide by Fleetwood Mac.

Thursday night, Cordelia is sitting at the desk of her home office, reviewing her case, when her phone vibrates with a text. Her heart skips when she sees the sender.

 

  
_Misty Day, 10:12PM_

Check your mailbox.

 

 

Brows furrowed, Cordelia gets up from her chair and walks to the entry hallway of her home. After turning on the outside light, she opens the door and walks the short distance to her mailbox, which is empty save for a few envelopes.

 

The one on top, notably, doesn’t have an address or a stamp, simply Cordelia’s name written on it. _Misty must have hand delivered it._

 

She goes back inside, locking the door behind her, and shuffles back into her home office to carefully open the envelope.

 

Inside it is a single page of printer paper, with a bright blue sticky note stuck on the middle. 

 

_Cordelia -_

_I thought there might be a chance this could be helpful. Good luck tomorrow._

_~ Misty_

 

Cordelia removes the sticky note and sets it tenderly to the side. The paper appears to be a printed copy of an email, judging by the header at the top of the page. Cordelia’s eyes scan it quickly.

 

 

**From: Myrtle Snow**  <myrtle.snow@stmartinsepiscopal.org>

**To: Misty Day <** misty.day@stmartinsepiscopal.org>

**Subject: Today’s Discussion**

 

Dear Ms. Day,

 

Per our conversation in my office today, I would like to formally address the situation you brought to my attention.

 

As I discussed with you in person, St. Martin’s Episcopal School has no rule, written or otherwise, against intimate relationships between parents and teachers. St. Martin’s Staff are permitted to engage in relationships of their choosing with fellow consenting adults, so long as they do not discuss or promote said relationships with their students.

 

Thank you for the candor you exhibited today. You are a most valued teacher at St. Martin’s and we thoroughly enjoy having you at this institution.

 

Sincerely,

Myrtle Snow

_Headmistress, St. Martin’s Episcopal School_

 

 

At first, Cordelia isn’t sure whether she’s going to burst into laughter or tears. She re-reads the email about a dozen times before it occurs to her to search for the date. There, at the top of the header on the right hand side, is printed: October 24, 2018.

 

The date sticks out to Cordelia in her mind, but she can’t recall why. She grabs her day planner off her desk and quickly flips backwards until she gets to October. On the 24th, in her neat handwriting, is written clearly:

 

_Parent-Teacher Conference - 8:00 PM_

 

Cordelia is simultaneously flooded with both tender affection and a painful grief.

 

Misty had asked for approval from the school before she’d asked Cordelia out. She would never have put Cordelia, or Violet, or herself, in a position to have this backfire. She’d known all along that it would be an option if Cordelia wanted it to be.

 

Cordelia toys with typing back a hundred different things, _I love you_ and _Come over_ the ones she wants to write most. Instead, she writes a simple _Thank you._

 

. . .

 

Coco, Fiona, and Marie all insist on being present at the hearing. Cordelia doesn’t mind — she could use the moral support — but it still makes her anxious to walk in with an entourage.

 

She’d been disappointed to learn that neither she nor Marie personally knew the presiding judge, but she wasn’t surprised. This man, Judge Matthew Summers, spent most of his time in Family Court, where Cordelia and Marie were rarely found.

 

Since Cordelia is defending herself, she’s alone at her desk inside the courtroom. Hank, opposite her, is sitting beside his lawyer. Judge Summers opens the hearing and, after having both parties swear on their honesty, allows the plaintiff to state her case.

 

“Good morning, Your Honor,” Cordelia begins. “My name is Cordelia Goode and I am a partner at Laveau & Goode here in New Orleans. I am here today to discuss re-defining my custody rights as they pertain to my five-year-old daughter, Violet Foxx. Currently, I share physical and legal custody of her with my ex-husband, Mr. Hank Foxx. I believe, for reasons I will outline for you today, that it is in Violet’s best interest if I receive sole custody of her.”

 

The judge nods, so Cordelia sits as Hank and his attorney rise.

 

“Your Honor, my name is Calvin Teck and I am representing Mr. Hank Foxx. Mr. Foxx is willing to re-define custody of Violet Foxx today. He believes he should receive equal joint custody.”

 

Cordelia uses her best poker face to avoid the shock that would be showing, but she hears a small gasp from one of the women behind her. One thing that she, admittedly, had not considered was the possibility that Hank would try to spring for _more_ custody.

 

Judge Summers nods. “On what grounds, Mr. Teck?”

  
“For several of the last six months, Ms. Goode has been in an intimate relationship with Violet’s kindergarten teacher, Ms. Misty Day. In addition to the fact Mr. Foxx feels that Ms. Goode and Ms. Day’s relationship is inappropriate, he worries that it enables an unsettling and immoral home for Violet to spend the majority of her time in.”

 

Cordelia’s toes curl inside her heels, but she straightens her back and swallows hard. She’s prepared for this.

 

Judge Summers looks at her, and Cordelia stands on her own volition.

 

“Ms. Goode, is it true that you had these relations with Violet’s school teacher?”

 

“Yes, Your Honor. From mid-October to mid-January, we were in an intimate relationship.”

 

“Did or does Violet know about this relationship? Did Violet see her outside of school?”

 

“Violet saw Ms. Day outside of school five times over the course of December and January,” Cordelia clarifies. “Three times, Ms. Day came over for dinner and we watched Disney movies with Violet. The other two times, we took Violet to the neighborhood park. Violet does not currently have, and has never had, any inclination that Ms. Day and I were romantically involved. She simply sees us as friends.”

 

Judge Summers nods. “I have in the case file that Violet is enrolled in St. Martin’s Episcopal School.”

 

“Yes, Your Honor.”

 

“I presume that, at a Christian school, they must have rules about who their faculty are allowed to date.”

 

“They do, Your Honor. Permission to approach the bench?”

 

“Permission granted,” Judge Summers says, so Cordelia moves forward with the document she has ready in her hand. He thanks her and looks it over as Cordelia returns to her place and, out of courtesy, hands an additional copy she’d printed to Hank’s attorney. “Ms. Goode, please explain to the court the document you have presented, for the record.”

 

“Of course, Your Honor. This is an email sent from the headmistress of St. Martin’s Episcopal School, Myrtle Snow, to Ms. Day. The email states that, per a conversation that Ms. Snow and Ms. Day had in October of 2018, staff members at St. Martin’s are permitted to date consenting adults of their choosing, so long as they do not discuss their relationships with students.”

 

Cordelia avoids looking at Hank’s face, desperate as she is to see it, and stays focused on her own next argument.

 

“Mr. Teck,” Judge Summers says, “seeing as Violet’s school has no objection to the relationship, am I to assume that Mr. Foxx’s issue with it is that of personal opposition?”

 

“It is, Your Honor,” Hank speaks up first, but Calvin slyly elbows him to stop talking there.

 

“Mr. Foxx feels that the relationship sets a bad moral precedent in the home Violet is being raised in,” Calvin clarifies.

 

“I see,” Judge Summers says. “Ms. Goode, do you feel that your past relationship with Ms. Day was inappropriate?”

 

“Your Honor, while I am not currently in a relationship — with Ms. Day, or with anyone, for that matter—” She pauses, readying herself for what she’d prepared to say. “It is entirely possible that I will have other relationships, with men or with women. That is who I am.”

 

Her voice is stronger, more confident than she’d even hoped it would be, so she continues.

 

“I have always been cautious with who I bring around Violet. She has a very small circle of people in her life, so I have to protect the people allowed inside it. Among those people are her grandmother, her godmother — my best friend of over fifteen years — and my partner at my firm and longtime mentor. Ms. Day was and is someone that Violet adores and enjoys spending time with, and while I am sorry that I did not tell Mr. Foxx that Violet would be spending time with her outside of school, it was only because I did not want him to use that as justification for bringing other women around Violet when she’s at her father’s house.”

 

“Is this something Mr. Foxx has done before?”

 

“Yes, Your Honor. Permission to approach?”

 

“Granted.”

 

Cordelia takes the two neatly paper-clipped stacks of photos from Fiona’s private investigator and delivers one to the judge and the other to Hank and his attorney.

 

“Your Honor,” Cordelia says, once she’s returned to her desk, “when my child told me multiple times that her father had brought unfamiliar women to the house while she was there, each one less recognizable to her than the last, I confronted Mr. Foxx about it. He denied it, but I chose to believe my daughter. What you’re looking at are photos taken by a detective who looked into these accusations. I’ve cross referenced the dates on the photos with the calendar that you also have in your hands of times that Mr. Foxx has had custody of Violet; five of them are while she would have been in his home, present at the time of these affairs.”

 

“This is ridiculous—” Hank cries, but his lawyer is quick to grab his arm.

 

“Mr. Teck, for the record, can you please state if these photos are, indeed, of your client?”

 

“They are,” Hank interrupts, “But, I’m sorry, Your Honor — my personal life has absolutely no impact on Violet whatsoever. These women hardly met her.”

 

“Mr. Teck,” Judge Summers says, “if your client’s daughter was able to recount seeing and meeting these women to his ex-wife, is it possible that their presence around her might, indeed, have an impact?”

 

“No,” Hank says firmly, to the chagrin of his lawyer. “My private relationships are my own business. Violet doesn’t care one way or the other; she’s five!”

 

“Mr. Teck,” Judge Summers still addresses the attorney, “if Violet is, as your client says, completely unaffected by the intimate affairs of the adults in her life, then wouldn’t the same presumption apply to Ms. Goode’s relationship with Ms. Day?”

 

Cordelia mostly succeeds in keeping the smile off her face, but she hears Coco smirk somewhere behind her.

 

“Your Honor,” Calvin finally intercedes, “my client’s concern is more for the moral impact of Ms. Goode’s relationships with women.”

 

_So now it’s relationships, plural._ Cordelia grits her teeth and blinks once so her eye roll doesn’t show.

 

“Mr. Foxx doesn’t want that kind of behavior around Violet.”

 

“I see,” Judge Summers says. “I presume these are your client’s religious beliefs that contradict the behavior that you speak of?”

 

“Yes, Your Honor,” Calvin answers.

 

“To what belief system does Mr. Foxx subscribe?”

 

“Christianity, Your Honor,” Calvin says, and Cordelia can almost feel the anger radiating from the three women behind her. “Religion is no stranger to Violet, either. Mr. Foxx and Ms. Goode enrolled her in a private, Christian school.”

 

_Mr. Foxx and Ms. Goode?_ Cordelia shakes her head, but doesn’t dare interrupt the judge.

 

“Yes, I understand that she attends a Christian school,” Judge Summers says. “However, this is clearly a school that takes no issue with its staff members having relationships with adults of the same sex.” He clears his throat. “Mr. Teck, I’m curious as to what the belief system Mr. Foxx subscribes to has to say about sexual promiscuity. Is that on par with, worse, or better than homosexual activity, in your opinion?”

 

Cordelia looks out of the corner of her eye at the two men across from her, but neither of them speaks directly to the judge as they exchange whispers between them.

 

“I ask, additionally,” Judge Summers adds, “because, if Mr. Foxx is worried, as he says, about Violet being around such behavior, why wouldn’t he be seeking sole custody of Violet, to permanently remove her from an, as you say, immoral household?”

 

“Your Honor,” Calvin finally says, “my client is simply trying to do the best to raise his daughter within his means. He is capable of caring for her for an equal fifty percent of the time, and is happy with that if it means that Violet will be able to spend more time in a Christian household.”

 

Judge Summers tilts his head. “A Christian household where,” he pauses to re-flip through the photos, “thirteen different women have come in to engage in sexual activity with you over the course of six weeks?” He looks up at Hank. “Mr. Foxx, I am in no way here to judge you on whom it is that you take to your bed. But I cannot, in all fairness, apply different standards of moral conduct to you and Ms. Goode. It’s simply not how the Law works.”

 

He looks back to Cordelia, who rises from her seat appropriately.

 

“Ms. Goode, you said in your opening statements that you are seeking sole custody of Violet. Why?”

 

“Your Honor,” Cordelia begins, “since the moment I found out that I was pregnant with Violet, I believe that I have done everything in my power to make the best decisions for her. I knew that my ex-husband had been unfaithful to me, but I didn’t want my child growing up with a single mother when I was certain that he could and would love her, too. For nine months, I put up with more infidelity and more absence. Violet was born, and my ex-husband did love her — as I know he still does — but he had no interest in actually putting in the day-to-day work that it takes to care for a child. We divorced when Violet was ten months old, and I agreed to a joint custody situation that I wasn’t completely comfortable with, but saw as my best option. I am here today because, after over four years, I am no longer at all comfortable with it.”

 

She takes a deep breath and, rolling her shoulders back, continues. She discusses how Violet had told her of the women she’d met, and how she had asked Hank on multiple occasions to stop. She mentions the smell of cigarettes that she’d found a total of twelve times on Violet’s clothes after she’d come back from her father’s house — even after she’d asked him not to smoke around their child. She then directs all parties’ attention to the images of the handguns Hank keeps, unlocked, in his car and bedside drawer. She admits that she had no idea that he had this until it was found by the private investigator, but that she feels terrified to send Violet back to Hank’s house after knowing this.

 

Finally, she addresses what she knows Hank’s alternate argument against her would be — the same thing it’s always been.

 

“Your Honor, as I mentioned in my opening statements, I am an attorney at a firm that I co-founded. I go to work every day and have since graduating law school twelve years ago. My ex-husband has accused me of being a workaholic, and there are times when I’d agree with him. I love my job, my colleagues, and the thrill of what I do. I enjoy that my income allows me to send Violet to any school that she or I might choose, and I am proud to have built a life for myself where I can drop off and pick up my daughter from school every single day.”

 

Cordelia adjusts her glasses and brushes a fixed, blonde curl behind her ear.

 

“I had no intention of entering a relationship with Violet’s school teacher. To be frank, it took me by great surprise. When we began dating, she assured me that the school had no issue with her sexuality, but that she would keep our relationship absolutely private. No one at the school — or in my life, save for the three women behind me — had any idea.” She swallows. “I was torn between wanting to spend time with her and wanting to be with Violet, so I took the liberty in doing both at the same time. I didn’t speak to Mr. Foxx about this first; I didn’t know how to without coming out to him, which I wasn’t ready to do.”

 

“Your Honor,” she says, “I stand here before you, today, having done that. I will not hide who I am anymore, and I will not be bullied into letting myself believe that who I love has a negative impact on anyone who is presently in or may enter my life. I am still the mother I have always been to my daughter, and I still firmly believe that it is in her best interest for me to have sole physical and legal custody of Violet." She pauses to exhale, heart hammering in her chest. "Thank you."

 

. . .

 

Cordelia get stuck at the courthouse until after school pick-up time, so Coco offers to go and get Violet and meet Cordelia for ice cream after.

 

Having not spent much time in Family Court, Cordelia had no idea how much paperwork there was to be filled out upon re-defining custody rights, but she can’t say she’s surprised.

 

Besides, she’d fill out weeks worth of paperwork if it meant she got to be signing her name over to take sole custody of Violet.

 

Hank had gotten supervised visitation, two times per month, where he would be able to either come to Cordelia’s home or meet her somewhere in public to spend time with Violet. Cordelia took no issue with it; she knew Hank loved his daughter, he simply couldn’t care for her responsibly.

 

When Cordelia leaves the courthouse and finally gets back to her car, she lets out a scream that, by the sound of it, has been waiting for weeks to release itself. She’s grinning from ear to ear as she pulls out of the parking lot to go meet Violet and Coco at their favorite ice cream shop.

 

Cordelia doesn’t tell Violet why they’re celebrating, having decided that it’s a conversation for another time, but her daughter is so excited about the trip that she doesn’t ask questions.

 

While Violet picks a place for them to sit, Coco takes her and Cordelia’s cups from the employee and Cordelia pays.

 

“So,” Coco says, keeping her voice low, “did you call her yet?”

 

“No,” Cordelia admits. “I haven’t.”

 

“But, you told her you were going to the hearing, right?” Cordelia nods. “So, she knows this was happening. Don’t you want to update her?”

 

“Of course I do,” Cordelia says as they walk slowly over to the table Violet had chosen. “I’m just — I don’t know, I’m nervous.”

 

“Why? Cords, she’s going to be _stoked_.”

 

“But what if she’s not? What if she doesn’t actually want to be with me, and this whole thing was kind of a relief for her? We moved so fast that we never even defined the relationship; we basically just jumped right in.”

 

Coco stops walking when they get into Violet’s hearing range. “Cords, you have to call her,” she says. “In fact, after this, I’m taking Violet home for a sleepover at my house. And you’re going to call Misty, and she’s going to come over and fuck your brains out—”

 

“Shh,” Cordelia cuts her off, though Coco hadn’t been speaking loudly. “I will call her, okay? I will.”

 

“I know you will.” Coco turns back towards Violet and waves excitedly as she approaches the table. “Guess what, Vi?”

 

“What!”

 

“Your Mommy said that you and I can have a sleepover tonight!” Coco practically shrieks. Violet’s eyes get so wide and excited as she looks at her mother that there’s no way now that Cordelia can deny her.

 

“Yep,” she says, as enthusiastically as possible, and Violet squeals.

 

“We’re going to go get our nails done, first,” Coco tells her, “and then we can order pizza and watch anything you want!”

 

Cordelia glares at her best friend, but Coco hardly falters before amending, “We can watch any Disney movie!”

 

“ _Ohmygosh_ ,” Violet cries. “We can go after we eat ice cream?”

 

“We sure can,” Coco promises. “Just me and you, babe. No parents allowed. Maybe we’ll meet Mommy for brunch tomorrow if she’s not too tired.” She winks at Violet, who looks more and more thrilled by the second.

 

While Violet excitedly shovels her chocolate ice cream into her mouth, Coco elbows Cordelia, who is lost in thought beside her.

 

“Your ice cream’s melting,” she says, nodding at Cordelia’s cup. “Come on.” Coco elbows her, and the smile on her face finally gets one out of her best friend. “Enjoy it.”

 

. . .

 

On the phone, Cordelia had told Misty to come over at seven.

 

That was before she underestimated how long it would take to shower, shave her entire body, dry and fix her hair, re-clean the already-clean house, and light candles in appropriate places.

 

She’s just pulling a bottle of Chianti out of the wine fridge when the doorbell rings. Her entire body buzzes with nervous energy as she sets the bottle down on the kitchen counter and begins walking to the entry hallway.

 

She stops to look in a mirror on the way to check her hair and face and, approving of what she sees, moves towards the front door.

 

When she opens it, her breath hitches in her throat at the sight of Misty. She doesn’t look any differently than she normally does — beautiful, as always, in a black, ruffly maxi dress, her unruly curls falling past her shoulders — but it’s been months since Cordelia has allowed herself to truly _look_ at her, and it has her wondering how she’s been able to do anything at all.

 

“Hi,” Misty says, uncharacteristically shy. She brings one hand up from her side, revealing what she’s holding, and all of Cordelia’s tension breaks. Her eyes start to water.

 

“Sorry,” she says, sniffling and embarrassedly wiping her eyes.

 

“These are for you,” Misty tells her.

 

The bouquet of violets is almost identical to the ones Violet had made that day at school, only neater and made with more precision. Misty had also tied the green pipe cleaner stems with a lacy white ribbon.

 

“Thank you,” Cordelia says, accepting the gift. “Please, come in.”

 

Misty steps inside and Cordelia closes the door behind her before leading the way into the kitchen.

 

“Is Violet asleep?” Misty keeps her voice low as she sets her bag down on one of the kitchen’s barstools.

 

“No, she’s not here. Coco took her for the night.”

 

Misty’s eyebrows converge as she looks at Cordelia, who is reaching into a drawer for the electric wine bottle opener. She waits patiently as Cordelia uses it and pours two glasses, pushing one towards Misty.

 

“I got sole custody,” Cordelia says, as if it had been as simple as saying it out loud.

 

“You — Oh, my god. Cordelia,” Misty says, eyes wide. “Congratulations! That’s huge, that’s what you wanted, that’s — _wow_. I’m really happy for you.”

 

“Thank you,” Cordelia nods modestly. “It still doesn’t feel real.”

 

“I bet. Congrats, Cordelia,” she says again. “If you’re up for it, I’d love to hear everything.”

 

Cordelia agrees, so the two women take their wine glasses and move to the couch to get comfortable. Once Cordelia starts talking, she finds it hard to stop. She feels such immense relief, not just from telling someone everything that had happened and that had been on her mind, but for Misty, specifically, to know.

 

“So,” Misty says slowly, once she’s finished, “you’re free.”

 

Cordelia looks at her, and finds comfort in the fact that Misty seems as unsure as she does. Her blue eyes are deep with curiosity as Cordelia stares back at them. Cordelia quickly realizes that she needs to give Misty her out _now_ , before she could think that Cordelia only invited her over here for one purpose. She clears her throat.

 

“Yes,” she answers. “I am.” She reaches an arm to set her wine glass down on the coffee table, and Misty mirrors her. “I just want to be clear.” She tries not to squirm under Misty’s gaze. “I don’t expect anything from you. Just because we can — could — be... anything,” she stumbles awkwardly on the word, “doesn’t mean that you have to feel some obligation to—“

 

“Delia,” Misty interrupts her. Her voice is soft, but Cordelia’s eyes are still worried when they snap up to Misty’s. “Shut up.”

 

With that, Misty is leaning over to close the space between them. When her lips meet Cordelia’s, Cordelia whimpers at the feeling she’d missed for weeks. It feels like an eternity since she’s had Misty like this: one hand on Cordelia’s face, one winding around her back, her tongue pushing into her mouth.

 

Their position on the couch makes it hard to get comfortable, so Cordelia slowly scoots down so that Misty can be horizontal over her, all without breaking their kisses.

 

“God, I missed you,” Misty says, finally pulling back to look at Cordelia’s eyes. “You are so goddamn beautiful.” She dips her head to put her mouth on Cordelia’s neck, and Cordelia moans so loudly that it briefly makes her thankful that Coco had taken Violet for the night.

 

“ _Misty_ ,” she whines. She knows Misty is leaving a mark somewhere near where her neck meets shoulder, but she can’t bring herself to care.

 

When Misty finally drags her lips back to Cordelia’s, Cordelia’s hips buck up instinctually into hers.

 

“I love you,” Cordelia says suddenly.

 

Misty stops moving on top of her. Her palm on Cordelia’s face gets softer, and she rubs her thumb over Cordelia’s mouth.

 

“I just wanted to tell you,” Cordelia continues, “because I never did. I’m sorry.”

 

Misty shakes her head, and Cordelia’s face is almost too close to hers to be able to tell if Misty’s eyes are watering, but she thinks they might be.

 

“Don’t be sorry, darling. I’m in love with you, too.”

 

At this, Cordelia lets out a relieved laugh, and tears spring to her own eyes.

 

“Well, that’s good, then,” she says, making Misty laugh, too.

 

“Yeah,” Misty nods, dipping in for another kiss. She shifts one leg to be between Cordelia’s thighs, and grinds down to let Cordelia feel her. “That’s good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left :)


	15. You’re So Deserving (Epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from This Will Be (an Everlasting Love) by Natalie Cole.

“ _‘Now let’s see what this list says,’ Amelia Bedelia read: Change the_ — what’s that word?”

 

“Sound it out,” Misty says. “Tow—”

 

“Tow-els,” Violet enunciates. “ _Towels_.”

 

“Good, baby.” Misty presses a kiss into her hair. “Keep going.”

 

They’re laying on the couch, Misty propped up against the pillows and Violet in her lap. Violet’s legs are sprawled out on Misty’s thighs, and Misty’s arms wrap around her middle to hold the book in front of the five-year-old.

 

“ _Change the towels in the green bath-room._ ”

 

“You’re getting so good, Vi,” Misty says while Violet turns the page.

 

Violet continues, her words coming out individually rather than strung together as she says each one aloud.  “ _Amelia Bedelia found the green bath-room. ‘Those towels are very nice. Why change them?’ She th-ote._ ”

 

“Thought,” Misty gently corrects.

 

“ _Thought_ ," Violet mimics. " _Then Amelia Bedelia re-mem-bered what Mrs. Rogers had said. She must do just what the list told her. ‘Well, all right,’ said Amelia Bedelia. Amelia Bedelia got some_ — ski-sores?”

 

“Scissors,” Misty says. “It’s a funny word.”

 

“— _some scissors. She sn-ipped a little here and a little there. And she changed those towels._ ”

 

With the help of the illustration, Violet realizes what the character has done and instantly looks up at Misty. “She cut them!”

 

“She sure did,” Misty laughs.

 

“That’s not what Mrs. Rogers meant,” Violet giggles.

 

“No, it’s not,” Misty agrees, cuddling Violet closer as she flips the page.

 

Momentarily, they’re distracted by the sound coming from around the corner of a key unlocking the front door.

 

“I’m home!”

 

They hear Cordelia’s voice coming from the front hallway, and she appears in the kitchen moments later.

 

“Good lord, it is hot outside,” Cordelia says, and drops the two canvas bags of groceries on the granite countertop. “But I got everything we need for burger night!”

 

Cordelia crosses over into the living room area, where Misty and Violet are still sitting comfortably. She bends over, and Misty tilts her head back for the kiss she knows is coming. Cordelia then leans further to kiss Violet’s forehead, but Violet looks up at her shortly.

 

“Mommy, we’re reading.”

 

“Oh, sorry,” Cordelia says, pursing her lips to avoid laughing. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Behind Violet’s head, Misty puckers her lips for Cordelia to give her another quick kiss, and she smiles to herself while watching Cordelia’s ass as she walks back to the kitchen.

 

“ _‘There,’ said Amelia Bedelia_ ,“ Violet continues. “ _She looked at her list again: Dust the fur-nit-ure_.”

 

It had been nearly a month since they’d finally told Violet about them, shortly after she finished Kindergarten and Misty was no longer her teacher. Misty had spent much more time at the house during the Spring, but never spent the night unless Violet was gone. As far as Violet knew, she was a friend to Cordelia and nothing more.

 

So, one evening in May, after the three of them had played in the backyard for hours and Misty made dinner, Cordelia had told her to stay over for the night. She wanted to tell Violet about them in the morning, and it made sense for the five-year-old to get accustomed to having Misty sleep over.

 

_Misty fixes the last of Cordelia’s throw pillows on the bed that they’d just made. She’s still only wearing underwear, so she looks expectantly at her girlfriend._

 

_“What should I wear?”_

 

_Cordelia opens her dresser drawer and pulls out a faded Fleetwood Mac concert t-shirt. “Here,” she says, throwing it to Misty. “You left it here when Violet was at Coco’s a few weeks ago.”_

 

_Cordelia puts on a robe, and, once Misty is dressed her her tee and a borrowed pair of gray pajama pants, the women make their way downstairs._

 

_When Violet comes in, they’re in the kitchen working on making Misty’s famous French toast. Her tangled, blonde bedhead makes both of them laugh, and Cordelia moves to go hug her hello._

 

_“Good morning, my love.” Cordelia lifts Violet into her arms and kisses the side of her head._

 

_Violet looks past her mother at Misty, who is standing, somewhat nervously, behind the kitchen counter. Both women are waiting for her to say something, but Misty speaks first._

 

_“Morning, Vi.”_

 

_Violet yawns. “Good morning, Misty,” she says, and then sets her head back down on Cordelia’s shoulder._

 

_Cordelia turns around to give her girlfriend a surprised smile, and then sets Violet in her usual chair at the kitchen table._

 

_“Does French toast sound good?” She asks, while trying her best to comb gentle fingers through Violet’s hair._

 

_“Uh-huh. Can I have milk, please, Mama?”_

 

_“Of course, baby.”_

 

_Cordelia kisses her head and then walks over to fulfill the request. Misty is organizing three plates of breakfast, which she carries over to the table._

 

_Violet’s eyes widen at the sight in front of her. It’s rare that she gets to have such a sugary breakfast, so between the chocolate chips, the powdered sugar, and the syrup, she’s absolutely thrilled._

 

_While Violet is busy digging into her food, Misty gets a seed of a raspberry stuck on her lip. Cordelia leans over to kiss it off, the action surprising both of them. Violet looks up just in time to see Misty plant another chaste kiss on Cordelia’s mouth before returning to her food._

 

_Violet eyes them curiously. “Misty,” she says, her small fork still in hand, “why are you kissing my Mommy?”_

 

_Misty smiles at her. “Well, because I think your Mama is the prettiest, sweetest, best person in the whole world. Besides you, of course!” This makes Violet giggle, and she eats the bite currently on her fork. “If it’s okay with you, I sure would like to kiss your Mama sometimes.”_

 

_Violet shrugs her tiny shoulders. “Yeah, that’s okay with me,” she says, and Cordelia is so happy that it doesn’t even occur to her to remind her daughter not to talk with her food in her mouth. Once Violet has swallowed her bite, she looks up at Misty again. “Does this mean you have a crush on Mommy?”_

 

_Misty grins and Cordelia almost chokes on her food. “Yeah,” she laughs. “I do have a crush on her.”_

 

_“Since when do you know about crushes?” Cordelia asks._

 

_“Lots of things can happen on a Kindergarten playground,” Misty teases her, and Violet nods in agreement._

 

_“Uh-huh,” Cordelia says, still skeptical. Her eyes are narrow as she looks between the two of them and finally lands on Violet. “And what, exactly, does having a crush mean?”_

 

_Violet sips on her cup of milk. “It means that you like that person, and you want to hold their hand and sit next to them at Lunch,” Violet informs her mother. “And you want to kiss them,” she says, dissolving into giggles._

 

_Her laughter is absolutely infectious, and soon both Misty and Cordelia are laughing alongside her._

 

_“I guess that’s fair, then,” Cordelia says. Her smile subsides, and she looks more seriously at Violet. “So, you’re sure that it’s okay with you — if Misty and I are more than just friends? If we hold hands, and sit next to each other?”_

 

_“And kiss,” Violet reminds her, and Cordelia has to try extremely hard not to laugh._

 

_“And kiss,” she agrees._

 

_“Yep,” Violet says. “I like it when Misty is here.”_

 

_The words warm Cordelia’s entire body, and she feels Misty’s hand come to rest on her thigh. “I like it, too, sweetheart.”_

 

Cordelia watches while unloading the groceries as Misty and Violet continue reading together. While it’s a regular occurrence around the house these days, she still can’t believe that this is her life. That everything had worked out, and that Violet seemed to be as made for Misty as Cordelia herself is.

 

Her phone dings, pulling her out of her thoughts, and she looks down to see a text from her best friend.

 

 

_Coco, 3:48PM_

We’ll be there around 6. Sure you don’t need us to bring anything???

 

 

 

_Outgoing, 3:48PM_

6 is perfect. And yes, I’m positive.

  

. . .

 

“Auntie Coco!”

 

Violet jumps into Coco’s arms, and Coco kisses all over her goddaughter’s face. “Hi, gorgeous!” She turns to face her boyfriend, who is walking up to the door behind her.

 

“Hi, Mr. Will,” Violet says politely, waving to the man she’d become familiar with before seeing the boy beside him. “Hi, Jack!”

 

“Hi, Violet,” Will and Jack both say. Will has a bag thrown over one shoulder, and he settles his free arm around Coco’s back.

 

“Where are your Mommy and Misty?” Coco asks. She sets Violet down so that the four of them can walk inside.

 

“In here,” Cordelia calls from the kitchen. She’s standing behind the counter, chopping tomato slices, while Misty seasons the meat for the sliders.

 

As the six of them exchange greetings, Will unloads the bag he and Coco had brought over, containing a box of gourmet cupcakes, case of beer, and bottle of champagne.

 

“Cupcakes!” Violet cries. “We get cupcakes?”

 

“Co, I told you not to bring anything,” Cordelia says.

 

“Yes, we do,” Coco tells Violet, ignoring Cordelia. “We’re celebrating!”

 

“What are we celebrating?” Violet asks, looking between her mother and godmother.

 

Cordelia looks at Coco, who is smirking, and then Misty, who raises her eyebrows expectantly. Finally, she turns her attention back to Violet.

 

“We’re celebrating because I won a very important case at work,” Cordelia tells her. “I worked super, extra hard for a long time, and it paid off.”

 

Misty smiles proudly and moves a supportive hand to the small of Cordelia’s back.

 

“Wow,” Violet says. “Good job, Mommy! When do we get the cupcakes?”

 

“Not until after dinner, squirt,” Coco says, so Violet sighs and pulls Jack into the living room to play with her LEGOs.

 

Cordelia laughs, and Coco reaches for the bottle. Once each of them has a glass of champagne, Coco raises hers in a toast.

 

“To my very best friend,” she says, eyeing Cordelia, who is already blushing. She leans into Misty’s side, and Misty’s hand on her waist tightens to hug her close. “She absolutely slayed the biggest case of her career to date. She is bold and brave and beautiful, and I always knew she could have all of the happiness that she’s glowing with right now.”

 

They clink their glasses, and Cordelia mouths a thank you to Coco as she feels Misty press a kiss into her hair.

 

. . .

 

“And that’s when I finally told him that I wasn’t selling him the house, because — can you imagine if one of those snakes let loose? The neighbors would probably call the FBI.”

 

Cordelia laughs and sips on her glass of wine. She and Coco are leaning up against the porch railing, watching Violet and Jack run around in the backyard. They’d invented some game that involved two pool noodles, a soccer ball, and a hula hoop. On the other side of the porch, Misty is grilling the burgers and making easy conversation with Will, who helps wherever he can.

 

They settle into a pleasant silence, each woman knowing what they’re both thinking without having to voice it. They had, essentially, been dreaming of a day like this for their entire lives.

 

By the time the burger patties are ready, the sun is beginning to set. Coco insists on helping to set up the buffet-style bar, so she and Will go inside to do so. Soon after, Cordelia sees Violet and Jack jumping up and down in the grass, clearly pointing to something.

 

“Mommy! Misty!” Violet cries. “Come here, hurry!”

 

Both women rush over to where the two children are staring, and Cordelia takes a step back upon seeing that it’s a live frog.

 

“I wanna hold it,” Violet says, looking between the two of them. “Can I?”

 

Misty crouches down to be beside her and, reaching out both hands, slowly coaxes the frog into her palms.

 

“Hey, little guy,” she coos, stroking the frog’s back with one soft finger as Violet and Jack watch in wonder. “You’ve got to be real gentle with him, okay, Vi?” She says quietly. “Just like you are with Jeremiah.”

 

“Okay,” Violet agrees. She sits down next to Misty and holds out her hands, and Cordelia watches with bated breath as Misty transfers the animal into Violet’s small hands.

 

“Hold him good, now,” Misty instructs, “or he may jump right out.”

 

“Hi, little baby,” Violet says, sounding as if she were talking to one of her dolls. Misty grins and looks up at Cordelia, whose nervous face has relaxed considerably. “He’s so cute!”

 

“He’s gorgeous,” Misty agrees of the dark green frog.

 

“Can we keep him?” Violet asks her, blue eyes pleading. “He can be friends with Jeremiah. Please?”

 

Misty smiles wistfully. “We can’t keep him, sugar.” She tenderly pushes a piece of Violet’s hair behind her ear. “His family is out here, and they would be so sad without him.”

 

“But, what about Jeremiah’s family?”

 

“Well, he’s already got one,” Misty says simply. “It’s us.”

 

This is enough to satisfy Violet, who smiles and then looks at Jack. “Wanna hold him?”

 

Jack shakes his head, so Violet looks to Misty for help with releasing the frog. As they do, Coco comes out to tell them that dinner is ready.

 

“Why don’t you two go inside and wash your hands, hm?” Cordelia tells the two children, who decide to race each other to the porch.

 

Misty rises and moves to stand behind Cordelia. She wraps her arms around her and drops kisses to her shoulder, neck, and ear.

 

“I love you so much,” Misty says. “Whatever forces of the universe brought us together, I’m thankful for them.”

 

“I love you, too,” Cordelia says, and leans her head back to rest on Misty’s chest. “I’m so happy that you’re mine.”

 

Misty doesn’t say anything, just hugs her tighter and enjoys the quiet hum of nature around them. After a minute or so, she sighs contently into Cordelia’s neck and, placing another kiss there, drops her arms and takes Cordelia’s hand in her own. Together, they walk back towards the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you guys enough for the support and love that you've shown this story. I am so grateful that you've enjoyed it and I am honored that you've kept reading along the way. I'm going to miss Cordelia, Misty, and Violet's little world an awful lot. Til the next one... xx


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